Crossing Back
by Arwen Jade Kenobi
Summary: Set three years after Children of Earth. Strange events force Jack to reconsider his opinion on the existence of ghosts along with his definition of impossible. Yep, you guessed it, more Children of Earth fix it fic. SPOILERS for Children of Earth
1. Prologue

"I know they're dead and I'm sorry but you can't just run away." Tears coursed down Gwen's face, smudging mascara down her cheeks like trails of black blood. "You can't run away." It was overly repetitive and overly begging but she didn't care. Maybe if she kept saying it the man in front of her would agree with her.

Jack Harkness, the man standing in front of her, had never given up in his life. Not once in his very long life. Not really. He'd lived so long and seen so much but he'd always powered on. He'd always made it seem like he never had a choice in the matter, and admittably he really didn't, but she'd never seen him or heard him mention of a time where he had decided to throw in the towel and turn his back on everything he ever knew and love because of something that had happened.

Somewhere she hoped Ianto Jones took some sort of pride in that. Jack had loved and lost before but this one had snapped him in half and then stomped the pieces into oblivion, or at least damn near it.

Not to say Jack hadn't tried. That's what the six months abroad were for. Whatever he had done or seen during those months had clearly not worked. She's hoped when she'd been summoned to this hill in the middle of bleeding nowhere on a frigid March night that Jack would say he was ready to get back in the game. To get back on his feet and do what Ianto and Owen and Tosh and everyone would have wanted them to do.

Not so. Jack Harkness was giving up. He still blamed himself for Ianto and Stephen and he was going to run as far as he could and as fast as he could to escape it. Gwen did not consider herself above begging and so beg she did. She begged him not to run, not to leave her, but mostly begged for himself. One day he'd regret running and that would be a pain that she would never be able to help him with because she probably would no longer be here when that pain hit.

"Sure I can." Jack's voice was quivering, breathy and almost of no substance. He was already gone from this place. That idea was confirmed when white light surrounded him and Gwen knew she only had moments to tie this man back to Earth, to make him face his demons.

She reached out and grabbed his vortex manipulator, ripping the fifty quid band off his wrist and casting it away. It vanished before it hit the ground. When she returned to look at Jack she noted that he was firmly back in the real world. The pain and hopeless lost expression in his face was replaced by the hard edge of anger. Good, she decided, let him be angry.

"Gwen," he began in a warning tone.

"Let me tell you something," Gwen snapped. She must look ridiculous, crying and trying to lecture all at once. Rhys had always said it was sometimes difficult to take her seriously when she got this angry but she was determined to be heard. She was partly surprised to find that he wasn't trudging up to her side to either supervise or help with this confrontation. Obviously he knew this was between her and Jack. Yes, she agreed, it was better that he watched from a distance. She returned her attention to Jack. "Let me tell you something that Ianto would tell you if he were here."

"Don't-"

"I will," she pressed on, voice quivering. "I will because someone has to speak for him and I always reckoned that would be your job. But you're not hearing him, Jack. You're not even trying to." She sniffed, batted roughly at her nose and eyes and continued. "Remember when Tosh died? When Owen died? I told you I could not continue but you told us, told me and Ianto, that we could. And we did. Not a day goes by that I don't miss them but I go on. So did you."

The words that next left Jack's moth Gwen had never thought he'd ever say aloud. "I am TIRED of having to go on!" He cried. "It's always me, every single _fucking _time. I go on and all of you die and it's always my fault." He looked like he wanted nothing more than to run away, but he would have done so or had a back up if he'd really wanted to. He was still standing there, still listening, in spite of the mist in his eyes and the haggard anger in his face. He was still listening to her. Gwen had to admit that it was more than a valid point for a man like Jack but it all sounded like to her was a child whining about having to go have a bath when he really wanted to stay in muddy clothes.

"That is just too bloody bad, isn't it?" Her voice echoed in the darkness and she could swear she heard some familiar voice shouting 'hear, hear!' in the distance. "You've been dealt a bad hand, Jack," she told him firmly, "and I'm sorry, so sorry that it always seems to be you. But with all due respect for how bad you feel you have to go on. You have to deal with it, not run from it." She stopped again, raking her brain for a better point than the one she was about to use but decided there was nothing for it. "This is something I hoped I'd never actually say," she admitted. "You know everyone at funerals always mentions what the dead person would think, feel or what have you. I never put much stock in it since I never thought there was anything left of the person to think anything. We know that's wrong though-"

Jack shook his head, silencing Gwen for a moment with the desperation. "I can't think of him like that. I can't do it…"

"I know," she agreed. "I know, I'm sorry, but my point is part of Ianto exists somewhere," she smiled, hoping that it didn't look as gutted as she felt. "He's no doubt fussing about you something awful." Jack let out some form of choked laughter at that. "Do you really think he would appreciate how you've been acting?"

_Stop torturing yourself. It wasn't your fault…_

Maybe her point about listening to Ianto was more than just words. That thought even had Ianto's voice. She listened again for something else, it felt like there was something else but there was nothing there. Imagination, she decided. She rubbed her hand across her eyes again. "Come home with us," she indicated herself and her husband. "We'll take care of you. We'll rebuild Torchwood. That's what we need to do now. We need to carry on for all of them who can't."

Jack slumped his shoulders and stared at the ground. "It was my fault." This time the child was hanging his head, waiting to be punished for breaking his mother's lamp.

"Now what would he say about that?" She'd seen the recording of Ianto's death. She knew precisely his thoughts on the matter. "We both know the answer to that one. He told you, remember?"

"People say all kinds of things when they're dying," Jack muttered.

"I think that if Ianto thought it was your fault he wouldn't have had any issue telling you. Not then."

Jack was the one having rivers pour from his eyes. She closed the distance and hugged him. "It wasn't your fault. Ianto knew what he was doing and I think you and I both know he wouldn't have rather been anywhere else."

Jack clung tightly to her and nodded into her shoulder. "I know. It's just..."

"It hurts. I know it does, dear." She pulled back and took his hands in hers. "Come on," she urged. "Ianto left you and me his coffee recipe in his will. I think we could use some of that."

Rhys made his presence known for the first time since complaining about the price of the strap. "I'll go warm up the car then. Bloody freezing!"

Jack snorted at that before returning his attention to Gwen. "Thank you."

She winked. "Don't mention it," she grinned. "Besides," she added as she took a hand back to place over her swollen belly. "I'm going to need a babysitter for this one once she comes out."

Rhys's yell of objection broke the air again, followed closely by quiet laughter. Another voice followed them though none of them could hear it.

_Wait for me_. It urged. _I'll fix this. Just wait for me._


	2. Chapter 1

_Three years later_

"Mel," Harry Olden warned, brown eyes flashing his concern. "I don't think that's going to work."

Mel Telson rolled her green eyes but did not look at Harry. "What did I tell you about thinking again?"

"Not to do so while unsupervised," Harry repeated dutifully. "I think I'm supervised."

A small shower of sparks erupted from the access panel and the young woman currently working on it swore profusely as she shook out her singed fingers. "I'm too busy to supervise your thought processes," she snapped. "So you're unsupervised. Stop thinking."

"Well, Jack's over there."

"Busy!" Jack shouted back, taking his guard off the door to look over at the two agents. "Mel let up and Harry don't hurt yourself. Leave the tech stuff to the tech expert."

"Yeah," Mel huffed. She placed her hands on her hips and glared up at Harry, whose six odd feet frame towered over her barely five foot one. "You don't see me telling you how to doctor."

Harry Olden was a talented doctor, all three of them there knew it. That was the only explanation they could think of for the fact that he managed to keep a victorious crow so quiet without losing any feeling. "Bloody hell that's rich," he chortled. "Remember last week when you sprained your ankle?"

"ENOUGH," Jack snapped. There wasn't time for this nonsense no matter how much it amused him. He did make a mental note relate this spat to Gwen, who was coordinating things back at the Hub, later. She'd been off field duty ever since her third trimester and she'd retained the position of Field Agent Coordinator since her daughter's birth. There were days that she missed the field but she enjoyed the more regular hours and the increased likelihood that she'd live to see her daughter through to university.

One way Jack kept her sane was making bets about whatever they could. They were currently taking bets on when the doctor and the technician would go on a date. Gwen was convinced Harry would ask Mel out first while Jack was betting that Mel would be the one to ask, after rejecting Harry a few times for good measure. The level of bickering that bordered on flirting had been reaching new heights the past few months so both were eagerly waiting for a winner to be declared, and for a hundred quid to be earned. He couldn't figure out whether the odds were in his favour or not. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment. "Hey Ianto," he whispered with a smirk. "What do you think? Should I start putting the moves on Harry to make Mel move faster?"

No reply of course. Had Ianto really been here, he probably wouldn't have answered out of protest anyway. Also the comment about hitting on Harry would not have helped to encourage a response either.

He smiled to himself, beyond glad that Gwen had knocked some sense into him that night. Running away had not been the answer, running away was a way of forgetting and that was the one thing that Ianto had asked him not to do. Remembering Ianto meant biting his lip and going on no matter how much it hurt.

That is what he had done and now, though he still missed Ianto with all he was, he could keep calm and carry on without his very soul crying out at the wrongness of it all. He could continue defending the earth from alien threat, meeting people like Mel and Harry, and doing what he did best. He remembered Ianto, though. He thought of him at least once a day and he would continue to remember Ianto thousands of years from now when the whole planet was dust.

_Three years, three months and sixteen days without forgetting about me_, came the Ianto voice in his head in that beloved deadpan. _Well done._

"Boss!" Mel hissed, bringing Jack back to the present. "Door's open. Let's move."

"Right." He stepped easily back into the role of team leader, filing away his grieving lover role for later. "Mel you take left, Harry take right, I'll bring up the rear."

Harry groaned. "You would say that." Mel kept her tongue and moved carefully forward, an Altercan laser weapon in her hand. Altercans were barred from making any sort of contact with Earth but this one had made quite the living for itself by selling humans replicated organs on the black market. The catch was that Altercans could create anything out of thin air but it could last only one month. Not a very bright guy, Jack thought, to think that scores of people in the Cardiff area dropping dead for the same reason wouldn't be noticed.

Something rattled in the dark and Mel fired into it. "Who's there?" she shouted. "Who's _fucking _ there!"

Mel was the newest member of Torchwood. Gwen, himself, Rhys, Martha Jones and a few UNIT boys had helped get things set up and ran Torchwood as best as they could until the UNIT boys and Martha had left. She and another one of the boys had vouched to remain on staff as reserve members, a capacity held by Rhys, Lois Habiba, and Andy Davidson, but they needed a full time doctor and a full time technician. The reserve staff had traded off shifts with Jack but, as much as he'd valued their help, he needed at least two more devoted teammates to keep the operation afloat.

Harry Olden had been recruited in Edinburgh quietly just as he'd finished his residency. Mel had been in and out of jail most of her life for various cyber offences before Jack had met her in a Belfast prison six months ago. Her story, and her talent, reminded him so strongly of Toshiko Sato that Jack had no other options but to offer her a job along with her release thanks to the help she'd given. So far she had proven herself trustworthy and capable, as well as fiercely loyal to the man who had saved her, but she was still quite green.

"Watch it," Jack warned. "We don't know where he is."

"Right here," came an overly cheery voice. The last thing he saw was the Altercan's feathery, grinning, face before a gun identical to the one Mel was carrying fired and hit him right between the eyes.

- - -

That grey figure was there again, Jack noticed right away. It seemed to be about ten feet away but when he tried to move it seemed as if he wasn't moving at all. There had never been anyone or anything down here. Not once in all the thousands of times he had died but this thing had been here the last couple of times. The same distance away every time, no matter what he did.

The dark even seemed a little less dark. He studied the figure closely, and could not make out anything about it. "What are you?" he asked. "Why are you here?" Questions he had asked the last go around.

The buzzing sound answered him again. It sounded like radio static on low volume and he was never able to make any sense of it and wasn't sure if he was meant to. The figure moved about a foot closer. That was definitely new.

A soft buzz and then Jack was gone from there.

- - -

"You alright, Jack?" Harry asked while hauling him to his feet.

"I'm always alright," Jack grumbled irritably as he attempted to regain his balance and his dignity. "What happened?"

The doctor sighed. "Mel shot him," he reported glumly. "Self defence but the bugger moved into it, I swear. She wasn't aiming for his head he just sort of.."

"Tried to head butt it?" Jack asked. Harry nodded. "Ritual suicide for them," he explained. "Obviously he didn't want to be a captive." He dusted off his great coat and fumbled around for his mobile. "Gwen?"

"I'm on it, don't you fret" came the reply. "Mel just called. I've got everything under control. Rhys and Andy are coming by with the SUV and to help with clean up."

Jack smiled. "That's my girl. Be there soon." He hung up the phone but Harry was still looking at him. Studying him. "What?" Jack asked. "Are you only now realising how dashing I am?"

"You didn't notice?"

"Notice what?"

"You didn't gasp back to life."

Jack stared at Harry. "I haven't gasped back to life in two years," he informed him. How were they having this discussion?

"Since Jones died, I know," Harry agreed. "You said it used to be quite dramatic, gasping gulps of air and all that. Since then, however, in all the deaths I've seen, you give a slight gasp. More of a gasp of surprise than of oxygen starvation. You've come back totally silent the past few times, however."

Jack stood there and thought about it for a moment. He hadn't told Harry about the grey figure in the darkness but he was beginning to think that he might have to now. There had been no great emotional upheaval in his life since Ianto's death and that was the only reason he could divine for having quieter resurrections. "Maybe you're with him?" Gwen had suggested when they'd first chatted about the quieter revivals. "Maybe you're with him and happy so you come back easier?"

Jack had dismissed that theory. He hadn't seen anyone down there and if he had seen Ianto he would definitely remember it. At any rate he had gone from returning dramatically, to not so dramatically, to not dramatic at all. The only new thing in the equation was the grey figure. It was something to discuss at least.

"Boss?" Mel walked out of the room and handed him the alien weapon back. "I'm going to go help Rhys with the mess…and I have no idea where this goes."

"Special archives, right?" Harry asked. "You know where that is, don't you?"

Mel's eyes flashed in annoyance. Harry stepped back and Jack tried his best not to laugh. "Yes I do but I don't have clearance yet." Mel informed in perfectly level tones.

"You'll have clearance for it tomorrow morning," Jack told her. Mel gave a jolt and regarded her boss with a wary look. "Really," he assured her. "This wasn't your fault and I think six months here without major incidents requires some extra privileges."

Harry gave his co-worker a very enthusiastic round of applause. The show of appreciation was stopped dead at yet another frigid glare from Mel. "Right," Harry announced, pulling his shirt in an unnecessary effort to straighten it. "I'm just…gonna…" he jerked his head toward the outside and fled, shouting a greeting to Rhys and Andy.

Jack glanced at Mel. She shrugged and smiled brightly at him as she followed Harry. Eyes rolling heavenward, Jack did the same.

- - -

Hours later, with the last of the paperwork taken care of, Jack Harkness found himself sitting in Gwen and Rhys's living room. They'd bought a house not long after Gwen had delivered Tegan Toshiko Williams into the world and Jack had become a regular visitor. When the hub had been rebuilt, and Jack had insisted on moving out of what had become Tegan's bedroom, Gwen had urged him to not take up residence in Torchwood again.

"Ianto left you his flat," she'd reminded him gently the first night he'd spent the night in the new Torchwood. Jack remembered that fact but that hadn't made the idea any easier. He'd resisted for a good two weeks, sleeping on the examination table in the medbay, until Gwen had brought Ianto's will to his desk and highlighted the passage in question.

_Since you can't seem to figure out how to purchase your own home I am leaving you mine, _he'd written. _Use it. And please don't let it sit there and be some perverse memorial or something. I want you to actually live in it. Please. For my own sanity and your own dignity move out of that bloody hole in the ground!_

That, aside from making him laugh, had gotten him to do precisely as ordered. Eventually he'd sorted through what things he wanted to keep in the house, what things he wanted to keep but not have in the house and what things could be tossed out. The flat looked a little more Jack Harkness like than Ianto Jones like now but there was quite a fair bit of Ianto in every room. Notably in the sitting room where they had often spent a quiet night watching movies or playing video games. It had hurt at first, hurt almost as bad as actually losing Ianto, but he'd learned long ago that memories didn't have to be hurtful. He enjoyed the reminders of Ianto, even if they sometimes pained him.

"Here," Gwen said as she walked back into the room carrying two cups of coffee. "Tell me if it's any closer."

Another part of Ianto's will was his bequeathing his recipe to his Torchwood famous coffee to both Jack and Gwen. _May it fuel you both for many more sleepless nights Weevil hunting. And don't tell anyone else about it or I will have to kill you. I'll find a way, don't test me. _Were the exact terms followed by the recipe itself. The first night Gwen had tried to make it, the night she had brought Jack back, it had been a total failure. It had failed so bad that they had pooled their efforts and tried again only to have it taste even worse. "I wonder if he meant for this to happen?" Gwen had mused, laughing through her frustration. "What if he gave us the wrong recipe on purpose so we laugh at him instead of sobbing for him?"

Jack hadn't know what to make of it, both ideas being entirely possible and probable. "At any rate he would have _loved_ to see this."

_Right I did, sir. Oh and the recipe isn't wrong. You both are just that bad._

After that catastrophe Gwen had tried, when Jack and she really had needed to laugh at something, to make "Ianto Coffee" as they'd christened it. It tasted a bit better now but was still far away from being the delight that had graced their workstations every morning back in the old days.

Jack took a sip of this newest attempt. He shrugged his shoulders and bobbed his head back and forth. "'Bout the same as last time," he decreed. "Did you try and reverse the order again?"

"Yep." Gwen sat down, starting as a stuffed dog proceeded to bark loudly at her after she sat on it. She threw it aside. "Tegan is getting messy already," she griped. "I'm going to have a time with her when she's older."

"How is Tegan? I haven't seen her in a bit."

"She's good. Rhys is reading her a story now and he might come down later. Growing like a weed, she is. I can't imagine her being all grown up."

Jack smiled wistfully, knowing all too well how fast those years would fly by. "She will be soon enough though," he told her. He smiled and reached out to squeeze her hand. "But that's a long while off. She's only two after all."

"Yeah," Gwen agreed. "Got years yet. Now what did you want to talk to me about?"

Jack told her about his death today, about the grey figure in the dark and of Harry's observation. Gwen was silent for a moment except for her fingers drumming against her mug in thought. Just as Jack was about ready to ask her to stop her damn tapping she opened her mouth. "Are you sure it's not, Ianto?"

He had to laugh at that. "Yeah," he said once he was able to stop laughing. "I'm pretty sure. Last I checked Ianto didn't appear to me as a grey blurry image who only spoke to me in radio static."

"Right, not in his taste." Gwen agreed wryly. "Still, though, who do you think it is?"

"I'm not even sure it's a who," Jack countered. "I'm thinking it's more of a what. I have long list of whats that I've pissed off over my life but I don't know which one this is."

"Maybe it's nothing? Maybe you're just getting even more used to dying that things don't seem as dark and you know the run of things so you don't need to gasp."

"That's great," Jack lamented. He leaned back against the couch, head draping against the back of it and staring up at Gwen's ceiling. "Getting even more used to dying. I'm not sure that's even possible."

Gwen sipped her coffee. "Anything is, really," she shrugged. "I say we let Harry run a few tests. Can't hurt, can it?"

Normally Jack would be dead against this. The need to know went against his better sense, though. "Agreed," he sighed. "Though I have a feeling, now, that I might find out what that thing is soon enough."

"Or who," Gwen stabbed a finger at him.

"Or who." Jack conceded. Nothing would make him happier than if he could have moments with Ianto while he was dead. No one had ever waited for him in the black before, he wasn't sure that anyone ever could find each other again down there, but he knew very little about death considering how well he was acquainted with it.

He doubted it was Ianto, doubted it was anyone he'd known or loved, but a part of him hoped it was.


	3. Chapter 2

Jack had been hearing his name being called for quite a bit now. It would normally be incredibly annoying but the fact that the person calling him was dead simply told him that he was imagining all of this so he tried his best to fall deeper into sleep and ignore it. The voice continued until it let out a sigh. It was a familiar one, one of frustration and not of resignation. She never really had resigned herself to anything after all, never truly anyway.

_He's not waking up._

The comment had obviously not been directed at Jack but he was still surprised when another familiar voice replied to it._ Oh you have got to be kidding me, _ it grumbled as it so often had in life._ I'm going mad with all the effort I'm putting in to this and he doesn't have the decency to open his eyes?_

_Jack? _The first voice again. _Jack? Can you hear us? It's Toshiko an-_

_And Owen bloody Harper now answer me Jack, so help me, before I start making doors and windows slam like a right and proper ghost!_

"You're not here," Jack said to the blackness. "You're not real. This is a dream."

A low growl rumbled in the black. _I'll show you not real, Harkness…_

_Shut up, Owen! It's not a dream, Jack. And I can prove it. There's-_

_Tosh, we're going to have to come back later. We're running out of time and I think Ianto's getting impatient._

"Ianto?" Jack called, suddenly not caring if this was a dream. "Ianto?"

_He's not here, Jack. _"Tosh" snapped. _ Listen to me. Look for a shoebox in the bottom drawer of my dresser. There something in there you might want to see. Something of Ianto's._

_Something of Ianto's? What on earth do you have of-_

_SHUT UP, OWEN! We're losi-_

Jack came back to wakefulness with gasp worthy of his dramatic resurrection days. He shook his head to the echoes of the dream and then opened his eyes. It was blindingly sunny in here, he quickly determined. It was so sunny he had to shield his eyes. He could have sworn he'd shut the curtains before he'd—

His thought derailed spectacularly when he noticed that not only were the curtains in the bedroom open but the windows were also opened. He was up out of the bedroom, moving on some strange intuition, and rushed into the living room. Windows and curtains open there as well. An inspection of the bathroom and the one small window in the kitchen showed they were all flown wide open as well. Last time Jack had checked he didn't think the flat had needed to be aired out and he didn't enjoy sleeping with all his windows open. Not in January at any rate.

_I'll show you real, Harkness…_

"Oh no," he warned himself. That thought was dangerous territory. Very dangerous territory. "That was dream," he lectured. "That wasn't real."

At the conclusion of that sentence all of the windows slammed shut one after the other. The performance was perfectly coordinated, the fan of windows shutting reminding him of crowds doing the wave at sporting events.

His first thought was that his team was responsible even though practical jokes weren't really something they did anymore. The occasional prank wars that Torchwood Three had indulged had died after Tosh and Owen had and this type of prank was not something Gwen would have done. He couldn't even imagine Harry or Mel trying something like this either. Harry lacked the spine and Mel lacked motive.

His second thought was that he was still asleep but one positively frigid gust of wind through the open windows, proved he was quite awake. The third possibility was that after so many centuries he had finally lost his mind. Hearing voices was definitely a sign of that.

More tests for Harry to run today, he decided with a sigh as he made his way to the kitchen. He opened up the cabinet door to grab a mug and caught glance of the recipe of for Ianto's coffee, written in the dead man's precise hand, and decided today was already shaping up to be one of those days. He'd probably only manage sludge but at least it would be highly caffeinated sludge.

Hopefully that wouldn't throw off any results.

- - -

After the 456 mess, when rebuilding the hub been tabled, Jack and Gwen had fought very hard to have the location remain the same. The archives and some of the morgue had survived and it seemed silly to clean up all traces of their presence along with the mess instead of merely rebuilding out of the rubble. "The end is where we start from," he'd urged them. It was something he still believed in despite everything and he gathered that had helped to convince UNIT that Roald Dahl Plass would still be the headquarters for Torchwood Three.

Everyone knew they were there anyway. They weren't a secret, hadn't been for some time, so there didn't seem a point to pretending they were.

Everything had been made to fit to precisely the way it was. Gwen's area was a bit larger and more comprehensive than any one else's but the same principles had applied. There was space for an extra work station for any reserve staff and then they had space for more permanent staff. Jack was sure he'd wear Rhys or Martha down one of these days he wanted a space ready for them when that day came. There was also room to expand if somehow he managed to convince both of them.

Gwen had asked him whether it was really healthy to have everything the way it had been but Jack had found it silly. This wasn't the same place, he'd argued. It just happened to look the same. Everything was too shiny and new for the ghosts of dead friends to haunt them. The tech station was clearly Mel's, not a hint of Tosh was there. The same could be said for the medbay, the medical station, the re vamped tourist shop and the expanded kitchen as well. The archives remained the same. Jack had made it his personal mission to be able to spend more than a minute in the archives without feeling Ianto's hand on his shoulder or see him haunting the storages shelves. He could certainly abide it now but it was someplace he still tried his best to avoid.

The one thing that really stood out aside from all of that was the spray painted logo of HUB2 that adorned the wall over the new couches where the old Torchwood sign would have been. Jack had asked Rhys to do that and he'd gladly repeated his performance from the warehouse.

"Jack?" Harry appeared at of nowhere as Jack walked through the "Made in Wales" stamped door. "Gwen said we needed to take care of something."

Gwen's back was turned to him so he couldn't glare or thank her properly. Gwen may sometimes overstep her bounds but she usually had more than enough reason to do it. In this case she was assuring that Jack actually did what he said he was going to do. She knew him way too well. "Yeah," he confirmed. "I've got a bit of a story for you."

- - -

Harry Olden was only twenty eight but had the manner of a doctor at least twice his age. Where Owen Harper had been fantastically brilliant but fantastically snappish around his patients Harry dealt with each patient, whether a team member or an extraterrestrial refugee, with the same level of courtesy. That was a skill that the other doctor had often lacked. Owen had not missed leaving behind patients for good upon joining Torchwood staff while Harry still somewhat missed patient interaction. He was gentle and encouraging no matter what type of tests or injuries he was dealing with, which Jack admitted he liked for the tests he was asking him to do, but a caustic comment from Owen would have been quite welcome. It also would have given him a bit more distraction than the silence Harry left him in as he manned the machines.

"Any chance you feel like dying today, Jack?"

Jack did his best to turn his head without upsetting the wires and nodes Harry had set up on him. "I usually don't like to die on an empty stomach," he quipped.

Harry hummed to himself. Punching up a few screens on his monitor and then shrugging his shoulders. "Physically you're better than fine. Mentally as well. Nothing whatsoever wrong with you at all."

That was surprisingly disappointing. He'd explained the grey figure in the darkness to Harry and had mentioned the events of the morning. Harry had seemed pretty confident that it was a sign for rest and perhaps further investigation. Jack couldn't help but be encouraged as well because that was what Harry did. All smiles from one ear to the other, brown eyes a veritable pillow of security. Jack had been soothed into accepting whatever was found. To find that he was healthy after all was something of a let down.

"So…" Jack stalled. "What's with the dying comment?"

"Maybe something's changed in your readings when you're dead?" Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I can't think of anything else we can test. I'm betting nothing changes though. It might explain the grey figure but I can't explain hearing dead friends talking to you as anything other than exhaustion." He ran a hand through his close cut brown hair, a gesture eerily similar to another dear departed friend, and commenced releasing Jack from the wires. "I, of course, have no explanation at all for the window thing. Maybe there's something in the archives that can measure for whatever energy presumably caused that?"

That wouldn't be surprising. Some of the artefacts no doubt would have been better off as ashes, Jack saw it as a blessing and a curse that the archives has survived the blast, but there were some useful things down there. "Want to look into it?" he asked Harry. "I'd rather try that first before I let you shoot me."

Harry blinked and then gave him a nod. "I'll get down there."

Jack nodded his thanks and slid off the examination table. Harry cleared his throat and held out Jack's shirt. "Might want this, perhaps?"

Jack smirked and shook his head, wandering right on out of the medbay and out into the main hub. Gwen burst out laughing, trying to not choke on sandwich she was eating. Mel displayed no reaction, simply waved him over her station.

"Melanie Telson," he sang. "My great and terrible Irish beauty, what have you got for me?"

"A big problem," she said without missing beat. "Apparently the organ trafficking is the least of our worries. The doctors who performed those operations were exposed to something called Hexdrac-381."

Jack leaned in over Mel's shoulder, scanning the UNIT datasheet on the subject. "Since when can Altercans create viruses?"

"They can't." Mel said. "It's a slow death, this one. Attacks each system one by one and shuts it down. Like a computer virus, almost. It's an engineered one by…I'm not even going to try and pronounce that… Suffice to say we have to arrange for some antidotes."

Jack was already on the phone with UNIT. "Three injections, ten minutes apart," he ordered, still reading off the datasheet. "Agent Cooper and I will pick up the serums and then deliver them. We have a long time frame it appears but we don't want to make anyone suffer this longer than they have to." He hung up the phone and Gwen's name was barely out of his mouth when he was assaulted by both his shirt and his great coat.

"I'm driving," Gwen reported.

He'd be a fool to argue with her. He saluted. "Yes m'am!" He buttoned up his shirt and turned his attention back to the red haired woman, "Mel, Harry's in the archives if you need him. You're in charge."

Mel snorted. "Too bloody right I am," she muttered. "Someone intelligent has to be here in case Harry gets lost down there again."

"How did he manage that anyway?" Jack asked, pulling on his great coat and heading down to the car park. "The archives are the most organized part of this whole place."

"Best not to look for sense when it comes to Harry, boss," Mel sighed. "Now get on out of it."


	4. Chapter 3

Two hours later everything was picked up, administered and well on the way to full recoveries. Hexdrac-381 was not contagious but it was still a nasty, slow moving and painful disease. It was a display. If the species that created it was angered this was what they sent out to teach them a lesson. The antidote was rare but not so rare that UNIT didn't have access to it. Jack didn't know when anyone had dealt with the disease before, he certainly hadn't been involved in any of it, but he didn't concern himself with it. All that mattered was that the doctors who had performed the transplants were going to be fine. There were other issues to consider. The doctors would have to be interviewed but Jack was all for giving them the time to recoup from what had happened before asking the questions and then retconning them. They were all weak as new born kittens, barely able to lift their heads up let alone withstand any sort of proper debriefing.

Business was done and dealt with but Gwen was either lost or taking the scenic route back to the Hub. When Jack asked after their destination Gwen's response was warning, cold laugh of "oh, you know where we're going." When he'd asked again, assuring her that he actually had no idea what was going on, Gwen had merely rolled her eyes and driven faster.

Fifteen minutes later he clued in and was severely regretting telling Gwen about the dream and the window thing on the way out.

"What are you afraid of?" Gwen asked as she parked the car in front of the storage shed that held the possessions of Toshiko Sato. Gwen had already dragged him over to secure the spare key that the man who ran the place kept for all these storage lockers. Gwen had some access to those keys but Jack had the final say so on the release of those keys. Jack knew that he could have easily shut the whole process down but found himself giving consent anyway. A part of him definitely wanted to know but another part desperately wanted to get back in the car and run away.

"You're afraid of if there is something there, aren't you?" Gwen asked softly. She took his hand and held it tight. "Why?" she whispered, trying to sound understanding when she really didn't understand at all. "If it's something of Ianto's then that's a good thing, isn't it?"

"If there's something there," Jack replied, slowly enunciating each syllable. "And no one but Tosh knew it was there and told no one about it …" He let the sentence die and waved his hand in a 'and there you have it' gesture. If there was something in there that meant there was more truth in the events of last night than he'd was prepared to believe. He was not sure if he could believe in ghosts, not after dying so many times and seeing nothing and no one in the dark. Not when he'd had to watch Tosh's eyes glaze over despite her best efforts to stay with him. Not when he'd watched Ianto gasp his last breath in a similar fight. Not when he'd watched Owen fall, not even getting the chance to fight.

These were people he'd thought could survive anything. People who were nothing short of extraordinary, people who had faced the worst life could throw at them and had still managed to come out on top. No matter how resilient they were, no matter how much Jack loved and admired them, they had been unable to win that final battle. No matter how hard they'd tried.

Death was the end of it. He'd seen it too often to believe otherwise.

A rusty rattle and a mighty grunt and Gwen had the door opened. There, for the two of them to behold, was all that remained of the fact that there had once been a woman named Toshiko Sato. She didn't own nearly as much stuff as Suzie had, or even Owen, so she only really took up half of the storage space. Tosh had had no family to deal with and nowhere else she frequented aside from Torchwood so the clean up job had been incredibly swift. It had been good that way, Jack had remembered. The three of them had all been hurting and drawing out the process with an extended moving procedure was the last thing anyone had wanted to do. He remembered Ianto almost breaking Tosh's glass jewellery box and then apologising profusely to empty air as he'd set it on the dresser.

He glanced at the box and smiled at it, taking a moment to remember the woman who had owned it along with the man who had last touched it. Gwen pressed ahead of him and pulled the cover off of the dresser. "Tosh said shoebox, right?"

Jack nodded distractedly as his friend started rummaging through drawers. "Don't start throwing anything out of there," he warned. This was Tosh's life they were going through, respect had to be paid.

Gwen's head bobbed in acknowledgement and, two drawers later, let out a cry and held a beat up brown shoebox over her head. "Got it!" She stood up, turned, and held it out to him. "Go on," she shook the box before him, something thumping against the sides. "She told you to open it, not me."

Jack took the box, deciding not to lecture Gwen about referring to his dream as if it were established fact and opened it. Inside was a DVD labelled "me and Ianto – 2006" and an open, unaddressed envelope. A good five minutes of indecision passed before Jack took the paper out of the envelope and began to read.

_Captain Harkness,_

_Please accept this letter as my official notice of my resignation. I will retcon myself precisely twenty four hours from this date with or without your approval. I trust you can find someone else to perform any of your administrative needs. I also take this opportunity to express my deepest apologies about my recent conduct. I not only betrayed your trust, and the entire team's, but I also endangered all of your lives in the process. It was beyond good of you to offer me the probationary period but it has become clear to me that it is far from appropriate to expect any of you to trust me again. _

_I did greatly enjoy my time here and I sincerely, deeply regret that things could not be resolved any other way. _

_Sincerely,_

_Ianto Jones_

Jack had to read the letter again before it fully sunk in that he had almost lost Ianto well before the 456. The Lisa incident had been horrific for everyone but it had ended up being a great bonding experience for the whole team in its own twisted way. He had given Ianto one month's probation and the date on the letter, 13 November 2006, must have been just after his probation period had begun. It had been rough in the beginning, Jack remembered. No one on the team really was prepared to trust him or talk to him and, Jack had to admit, he had been one of the greater offenders. He had felt the same betrayal as everyone else had but it doubled through the fact that Ianto and him had a sort of arrangement and that he had clearly used him to get Lisa in the building. It had all made sense at the time. He and the others had been betrayed and they had to let Ianto know the damage he had done.

_I __clear up your shit. No questions asked and that's the way__you like it._

The team had also betrayed Ianto, though. They'd treated him like a servant more than a team mate. Jack treated him as a sex toy more than a human being. He'd never been invited anywhere with them and he was always the last one at the Hub and the first one there in the morning. They needed someone to do their dirty work and not ask questions and Ianto, in his desperation to save his girlfriend, was willing to put up with that abuse. Then he'd fought back. He'd called them on their selfishness and what he had done had really not been hideous or evil, and it was not very different from what they'd done to him. No one enjoyed having their faults thrown out and exposed so brazenly and they had all acted accordingly.

Ianto hadn't resigned though, no matter how horrible or dismissive they were of him. Jack had grown to admire him because of that. Ianto had looked beaten down but determined during the probationary period and then things had slowly gotten better. This letter though, despite its neutral and formal tone, showed him exactly how crushed down he had been. Obviously he hadn't resigned or retconned himself, and part of Jack wished that he had, he probably would be alive today if he had, so what had changed his mind?

Gwen took the letter out of his limp fingers and Jack had the pleasure of watching her face pale until her complexion nearly matched Tosh's glass jewellery box. "Oh my…" she rubbed at her eyes. "I had no idea…"

Jack draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "That would have been the idea." It was classic Ianto, always looking out for the team's needs before his own. Even when the team had done nothing to deserve this concern. It was heart wrenching and he wished he'd apologised to Ianto about it. He couldn't even remember even hinting at such a sentiment. Not even when Ianto had started leaning on him to deal with the team's lingering doubts about him. One more regret to add to the list.

_I forgive you._

The voice was comforting in a way; despite it not being real.

"So you didn't know about this?" Gwen asked. Jack found the question ridiculous at first but then the actual reason for the question hit him. Tosh had known about this, obviously, but neither she nor Ianto had spoken of it to anyone. Of everyone on the team Tosh was the closest to Ianto before Jack and him had gotten together properly. Properly as in somewhere just after the Captain John Hart mess. Tosh and Ianto each had a quiet dignity and grace about them. That and their fanatical attention to detail and that had brought them together long before Ianto had really bonded with anyone else. Tosh, if Jack recalled correctly, had been the first one to start treating him like a proper human being and the first to urge the others to do the same after the probation. If anyone would know something about Ianto that Jack didn't it would be Tosh.

He somehow doubted, though, that Ianto would have told Tosh he was resigning just like that. She must have caught him writing it or something.

Then he remembered the DVD.

"Gwen," he asked. "How do you feel for watching a movie tonight?"

A confused look crossed her face for a moment then she glanced at the shoe box. She picked up the DVD carefully, as though it would fall apart in her hands. "Your place or mine?" was her nervous reply.

- - -

They'd elected for Gwen's place. Little Tegan had been unimpressed that they'd had to shut off "Cinderella" but she'd been quite easily appeased by a piggy back ride around the living room from Uncle Jack. After the queen of the Cooper-Williams castle had been appeased she was quickly whisked upstairs to bed. "Do you want me back down here?" Rhys asked. Gwen was about to shake her head but Jack told him yes. His respect for Rhys had grown over the past few years. He wouldn't be continually offering Rhys full time status otherwise. Rhys was still holding out on him. His main argument, though, was that one of Tegan's parents should have a non life threatening job and Jack was hard pressed to argue with that.

"I'll brew us some Ianto coffee," Gwen said as she ushered Jack to take a seat. Rhys arrived first and took a glance at the DVD title. "Ianto and who, Jack? Who's 'me'?"

"Toshiko Sato," Jack replied as he rummaged in his pockets for Ianto's resignation letter. "We think it might have something to do with this." Rhys scanned the letter and then Jack filled him in on the details, even hazarding to tell him about his dream. Gwen added in bits from the kitchen and Rhys remained silent after the story ended but Jack did not worry about it. Rhys had seen a lot over the past few years and this was certainly no stranger to him than anything else he'd ever had to deal with. Rhys also did not pass a judgment on his or Gwen's treatment of Ianto, which Jack appreciated. He wouldn't have been able to take it if Rhys had told him off but he wouldn't have liked it if Rhys had been sympathetic either.

Gwen appeared with the coffee, which tasted like the cheapest coffee in all creation, and then they turned the DVD on.

The scene that crackled to life before them was of Ianto Jones standing next to a bonfire holding a piece of paper in his hand. They were in Tosh's backyard and he struggled to focus on the location and not at the man on the screen. When Ianto started to speak he couldn't help but stare at him. That voice had always commanded attention, even when it wasn't wanted. "Why are we taping this, Tosh?" was all he said but it was a symphony to him.

"So I can remember it," came the matter of fact reply from off camera.

Ianto laughed but it was a hollow sound, a far cry from the cheerful laugh that had warmed everyone who heard it. Jack very nearly cringed. "You want to watch me burn a resignation letter? I rather thought the paper shredder would be efficient enough."

Tosh laughed from behind the camera. "This might make you feel better."

Ianto's face fell. "Leaving this nonsense would make me feel better," he muttered. He stared away from the camera and into the flames. "I don't know why Jack bothered with probation," he sighed. "It seems that neither him nor anyone else really want me around now that I'm just like them."

"He wouldn't have bothered with the probation if he didn't want you around, Ianto," Tosh attempted to soothe him. "Earning everyone's trust is going to be a battle but if you earn it again-"

"They don't want it!" Ianto snapped. "I'm not even sure you want it, Tosh." He glared angrily at the camera, the shadow of the flames making him look like the devil himself. "None of you gave a shit about me until I started acting like a human being instead of a fucking coffee machine!" He crushed the piece of paper in his hands and lobbed it into the fire. A look of devastation crossed his face and he thrust his hands in to retrieve it. Tosh's and Ianto's yelled mixed, making everyone in the room wince. Somehow Tosh was still filming though; somehow she hadn't dropped the camera and rushed to Ianto's aid. Tosh had said she wanted to remember this moment. The image on the camera was certainly one that could not help but be remembered.

Ianto was holding the paper in his hands. The resignation letter was burning brightly but the writer was cradling it in the palms of his hands, seemingly unaffected by the pain he had to have been in. The look on his face deadly serious as he watched the letter burn to cinders.

"Ianto put it down before you hurt yourself!"

And he did. He thrust it into the fire again and watched it burn, his fists tightly clutched together in rage. "You lot are stuck with me," he said after a moment. "If I have to spend my entire life…" he trailed off and continued to stare at the fire.

"What?" came Tosh's whisper.

Ianto didn't answer; he merely looked at the camera again. The look of ferocity was gone. The face was determined but the eyes were pained and tired. Resigned to a long battle ahead was more like it. Jack looked into those eyes for the first time in too long. They were tired eyes, yes, but there was a touch of fight in them. He would fight to win their trust back but he would also show them that they could not use him or anyone else this way ever again, that they could not just take him for granted anymore. He was done with being just part of the office.

He finally spoke. "Don't underestimate me." His words were spoken to Tosh but seemed as if he was speaking to the three people clustered in a comfy sitting room years into his future. As if he knew that one day his co-workers would see this. Jack shifted under the intense gaze; he had never seen Ianto look at him that way before. Gwen leaned into Rhys, visibly unsettled by Ianto's stare, while Rhys remained fixated on the screen in shock.

Ianto turned away again. "Don't _ever _ underestimate me," he repeated slightly quieter. He threw himself into a nearby chair and reached for the bottle of beer beside it.

After Ianto put the bottle down Tosh lowered the camera to what must have been a table beside her since both of them were now on the screen. "I never will," Tosh vowed. "And I'll remember it," she said indicating the camera. Then she leaned down and hugged him, pulling him to his feet without loosing grip. Ianto froze in the embrace and Jack wondered who had been the last person who had hugged him before Tosh. The name Lisa floated through his brain and that broke his heart all the more. Soon enough, though, Ianto melted into it with obvious gratitude. A few seconds passed and then Tosh turned the camera off. The screen was black. Ianto and Tosh were dead and gone again.

A respectful, stunned silence settled amongst the three friends. No one moved to shut the television off. The blackness remained on the screen and they all stared at is as though it held the answer to what they had just seen.

Jack did not know what to make of this. That Ianto had hid this from everyone was not surprising. What he had told Gwen at the storage facility was all true. The aggression and determination were nothing new to Jack but to see it so open and vocal in a man who worked to be the picture of professional restraint was unsettling.

Ianto had succeeded in his intent though; no one had ever underestimated him again. He had proven himself to them all, had earned their respect and their trust again. Even Owen had warmed up to him despite the fact that Ianto had shot him. Jack had even let him back into his bed and had allowed him into her personal life; something he hadn't allowed anyone entrance to in countless decades. Not only had Ianto been allowed entrance to Jack's personal life but Jack had willingly given him his heart as well, something he'd never really given anyone before.

He loved Ianto Jones and the biggest regret that Jack Harkness had on the list of regrets involving him and Ianto was that he hadn't had the courage to tell him in the end. One thing for certain had not made that lengthy list of regrets, however: Ianto Jones had died a loved and respected human being, not a butler and a coffee machine.

"I didn't know he had it in him," Rhys breathed after nearly half an hour. "He always seemed like such a nice, quiet bloke."

Jack smirked. Rhys had no idea…

"He was to his friends," Gwen explained in a similar tone to her husband's. "And none of us were his friends at that moment." She paused and looked at Jack like she was about to tell him the biggest secret ever held. "When John Hart took you," she said, "when Grey locked us all up, Ianto informed him that if he hurt you that he'd kill him very slowly in a tone of voice very close to that." She continued despite Jack's raised eyebrow. Ianto Jones had been full of surprises in life. He was even more full of them in death it seemed.

"I couldn't believe I was hearing that sort of a threat from him," Gwen continued, baffled. "I've never heard him sound like that before and he meant every single word of it." She pointed at the screen. "That," she said as the pointed toward the screen, stunned beyond any further form of speech or thought. "That is…"

"Something of Ianto's that I didn't know about," Jack stated numbly.

Gwen looked at him and Jack nodded. That meant that either he had suddenly developed stronger psychic abilities or that Toshiko Sato had not been a dream. She'd somehow managed speak to him and tell him where to find all of this.

Which meant that Tosh was a ghost, which meant that Jack by default now believed in ghosts.

_Well done_, came Ianto's voice. _Shall I alert the media?_

He pulled out his mobile and punched in Harry's number. Having proof this was one thing but having perfect empirical proof would solidify everything to Jack. He still clung to the idea that he was wrong. Part of him welcomed the idea of ghosts, especially of friends, speaking to him, but a firm part of him was quite apprehensive. After all, you didn't hear too many stories like these and there had to be a reason for it.

Whatever reason Tosh was talking to him, Jack decided, it could not be a good one.


	5. Chapter 4

Gwen had wanted to come with Jack back to the hub to see what Harry had dug out of the archives. Jack had said no and was incredibly grateful that Rhys had backed him up on that. He'd whisked his wife away upstairs to bed so fast that Gwen hadn't even asked Jack to call her when he was done. Well done, Rhys.

Gwen still had a tendency to act a touch mother hen with him and he was quite relieved when she forgot about him. She had a family and she should spend her time worrying and mothering them instead of him. It was almost a relief to Jack when Gwen had taken her maternity leave after Tegan had been born. It was all well and good to know that he had one person who gave a damn about him but was not a fan of the smothering technique. When it had been just him, Martha, Lois, and the UNIT boys, one of which was still on reserve staff and happened to be Mel's estranged elder brother, it had been much easier to operate. People either didn't know how things had operated before or were smart enough to shut up.

When Gwen had returned to active duty she'd had a hard time dealing with the different atmosphere. Torchwood had always been Jack, Ianto, Tosh, Owen and her in any combination. Torchwood was different now, was structured differently, and had different people than Gwen was used to. All but one of her original co workers was dead and dead in action no less. Jack forgot how unsettling that was to someone who had never experienced it before. Especially to someone like Gwen.

As much as Gwen loved her new co workers she still wished things could have stayed familiar. She couldn't have her three best friends back but she could at least have the Jack she knew back. Jack had never really asked her if that was how it was but he hadn't really needed to either.

Mel, who was famous for being incredibly vicious when anyone tried to mollycoddle her, once asked Jack how he stood this. The answer had been simple: he stood it because he had to. Gwen remembered the man he was, the organization that was and she worked to have something of that back again. Besides, who was he to say that it could never return? He didn't want to push Gwen away and if that meant putting up with some of her more naïve notions that was just fine by him. Again, who was he to say they didn't have their uses.

He stepped into the SUV, more or less identical to the one that Ianto had lost all those years ago, and headed back toward the Plass. As he made his way back to the main work area he shouted out for Harry. No reply. He sighed. "Harry if you've gotten lost down there again I will make sure Mel hears about it."

"I'm not lost!" Jack smirked as Harry appeared from the conference room. "It was one time, are you ever going to let me live that down!"

Jack raised an eyebrow. He was fairly sure that it had happened more than three times but less than ten times and told Harry so. That ended that. "Come on," the doctor sighed and led him back to the conference room. "I found one thing that might be of use."

"I meant to ask you about that," Jack interrupted. "Not to assume the worst about you yet again but-"

"How did I find these things and how did I think to check the archives in first place?" Jack nodded. Harry was not the most intuitive of individuals, especially not when it was something outside of his field. He wouldn't think to check the archives unless he was sent there, the fact that Harry had thought to go down on his own was interesting.

Harry's response was enlightening. He shrugged and tapped the familiar binder under his arm. "Ianto's Rule," he replied easily. "It's all right there. I'm surprised no one thought of it before I did."

Ianto's will had been quite explicit and thorough. Jack had, unfortunately, read and carried out many a will in his time and Ianto's was by far the most detailed. It was for this reason that he was unsurprised to find a section dedicated to the fate of the Torchwood Three Archives.

_I know that I do not own the Archives, _he wrote,_ but I will say one thing regardless of that fact. I spent a good few years of my life putting that mess into order and any rest I head to will be MUCH more restful if the Archives remain that way. Jack, Gwen, whomever, be sure to let the new Archivist know this one fact: if they fuck up the Archives I will kill them. I will find a way. There's more than enough tech in the Archives to help me carry out that threat. I say again: Fuck up the Archives and I will end you._

Jack and Gwen had told that to Mel and Harry each when they had first been hired. In fact Jack had gone as far as to copy out that section of Ianto's will and attach it to the inside of the binder that Ianto had written up to govern the care and feeding of the Archives, the binder that was under Harry's shoulder at this moment. Mel had begun to refer to the passage as "Ianto's Rule" and the name had stuck.

"Section 691 is what Jones labelled as 'supernatural devices'." Harry went on as they entered the conference room. "Half of that stuff could resurrect someone easily but all come with a large price to pay, usually the end of the universe, or else it's only temporary." Jack nodded. He wasn't going to admit to Harry that one of the first things he had done before fleeing the UK was to raid the archives for anything that could help bring Ianto and Stephen back to him. He still did not know what sort of willpower had kept him from using some of that stuff.

Harry's find, a black box that seemed to look like a subwoofer for a mid 29th century stereo, was something he did not remember seeing during that trip. When Harry began to explain what it was that made perfect sense. It wasn't a tool to bring someone back from the dead. It was paranormal amplifier. "This should amplify any sort of paranormal energy in your flat and allow anyone trying to talk to you a much easier time of it." Harry mumbled as he flipped through what appeared to be whatever fact sheet whoever had found it had typed up. Another one of Ianto's procedures for found artefacts. Judging by how quickly Harry seemed to reading and the fact that he wasn't standing there trying to figure out any complicated words or poorly constructed sentences told Jack that Ianto must have filled this one out himself. Either because he'd found the device or because whomever had found it had failed to live up to Ianto's idea of a good fact sheet.

"Who found it?" Jack found himself asking.

"Jones filled out the report," Harry dictated. "The person who brought it in was…you actually."

Jack laughed. It must have been something he'd found centuries ago and Ianto must have written the report soon after he'd begun work here and had begun his work on the Archives. That was later confirmed when Harry read out a date of discovery that predated Ianto's birth by several decades. "Apparently this measures the activity as well," Harry added, setting the sheet back on the table with the Archive manual. "Something on the inside there."

Jack reached over and pulled a tab on the device's right side. A simple needle, currently resting at zero on a scale of one to two hundred, was hidden there. Whoever had made this, Jack decided, must have had a bit of a nostalgic streak. Jack liked them already.

"Alright," Jack announced, silencing Harry's droning listing of notable features and other minutiae that was irrelevant to Jack. "Wrap it up and I'll take it with me. Here's hoping it works."

Harry didn't smile. "Do we want it to work, Jack?"

Good question. "Well," Jack began with a shrug. "Either I'm hearing things or dead friends are trying to tell me something important. Be ready for either eventuality."

Harry nodded. "So it's the madhouse or the end of the world then?" At Jack's nod, the younger man sighed deeply. "I'll get the paperwork started."

"Thanks, Harry." Jack wasn't sure if he was trying to be sarcastic or funny with that tone of voice but it seemed that Harry was taking it as the latter as he watched Harry's face light up like a Christmas tree.

"See?" he crowed, pointing his finger at him and stabbing at him wildly. "I'm not totally useless! Now will you forget the archive thing?"

Jack said he'd consider it.

- - -

Jack had been sitting on the couch for nearly three hours surrounded by empty take away containers and a pile of discarded magazines. The amplifier was sitting on the floor next to the couch and was not making a sound. He knew that the thing was on, the needle was wavering and everything, but he wished for some more obvious that the thing was doing its job. He was not going to sit there and stare at a needle jumping back and forth all night to be sure of it, though. He'd had the television going for a bit but had eventually shut it off out of his own boredom. Television, at any rate, could not be any more insane than what he was sitting here waiting for. He seen so many strange and wonderful things over his long life but the fact that he was sitting in his living room waiting for ghosts to appear was just ridiculous. Dead was dead. You were in the dark, alone, where nothing and no one could reach you. There was no holiday from that.

_You might want to stop that thought right there. Owen's going to start smashing the china any second now._

That was Toshiko Sato through and through. Same matter of fact but cheery voice and delivered as easily as though they were back in the hub playing cards. "Tosh?" he whispered. He was convinced his mind was playing tricks on him but he was equally convinced that the machine was working.

The air seemed to change for a moment. The living room felt like the air before a storm, full of electricity and potential energy just waiting to burst. Out of thin air, a translucent Toshiko Sato walked to stand in front of him, wearing the same clothes she had died in. She looked well. She looked like she always did when she reported for work, all smiles and anxiousness to get started on whatever lay in store for them.

"No. Damn. Way." He pronounced. It was a reflex statement with very little actual conviction behind it.

The apparition of Toshiko Sato shut her eyes and a look of peaceful concentration crossed her face. After a moment she opened them, reached out and pinched his arm with a strength that could be nothing but supernatural.

"Ow!" he yelped. "Tosh, what the hell…" He trailed off as he realised that she was still there, this time smiling that devious smile she'd had on her face that time her and Ianto had managed to change all his passwords and preferences without leaving a single trace. It was a victorious smile and it was the most beautiful thing in the world to him at that moment.

"You are not mad," she told him softly. "The situation is a little mad but you certainly aren't." Jack was still staring in shock at Tosh. Her eyes glistened despite her blinding smile. "Never thought you'd see me again, did you?"

Jack flew off the couch to pull this wonderful woman who had come so far and done so much into his arms only to find that he couldn't do it. She was as insubstantial as a dream no matter how tight he grabbed.

Tosh's smile fell from her face. "Sorry," she winced. "That pinch was all I could manage." She gestured at her body, or the appearance of it. "I can do this and that's about it. Owen even had to help with the pinch."

"Owen's here too?"

Tosh snorted. "Who do you think did that trick with the windows?"

The china rumbled ominously. Tosh rolled her eyes. "Would you quit that? We need to be here for awhile yet!" The china stopped. "Sorry, Jack. Once Owen figured out how to move objects around he's been having a bit too much fun."

Fun? His two dead friends were having _fun_? He'd never spent a great deal of time dead but his visits to the darkness had not been those of fun and games. "I'm, I'm sorry…I just don't quite…" He paused and took a few deep breaths. The image of Tosh dying in his arms, looking at him with that pained but peaceful look danced before him in his mind's eye. It was unbelievably hard to reconcile that awful image with this seemingly healthy looking woman before him. "I've seen a lot of things in my time but I've never seen this."

Tosh shrugged, as if people appearing to their friends years after they'd died was nothing extraordinary. "First time for everything. Oh, and we're so glad you found that box by the way," she jerked her thumb toward the amplifier. "It makes things a LOT easier on us."

_Yeah_, came Owen's voice. _This is a lot harder than it looks. Of course you had to sleep through our last visit. Stupid git._

"I'm pretty sure," Jack lectured, "that you wouldn't have believed it yourself if positions were revered." Owen made some muttering noise of dismissal while Tosh stared at the space next to Jack on the sofa as if it were a complex computer program. She shut her eyes again and that same expression of deep concentration crossed her face. Her face beamed with pride as she settled onto the couch.

"Three years of hard work certainly paid off!" she crowed and then winked at him. "And I knew that bit about Ianto would get you to believe us."

Owen's snort echoed through the apartment. _Why the hell did you hang on to that resignation letter so long? I know you said he gave you a copy for safe keeping- _

"I said I'd remember, so I held on to it." Tosh said quietly. Her tone of voice was so sad that Jack wished he could hold her all the more. The television chose that moment to flicker on and scan through a few channels before settling on some sex scene from some movie Jack hadn't seen. Tosh threw a glare toward the chair on the left of the television, the same place where she had directed her eyes every time she'd addressed Owen. Jack got up and unplugged the television from the wall and glared smugly at that same spot.

The move had the desired effect. Tosh laughed, the china rattled and a muttered _fuck you, Harkness_ followed. Jack felt another sort of electrical charge in the air and slowly but surely the image of Doctor Owen Harper, appeared. He was also wearing that same t shit, jacket and jeans that he'd gone to the reactor in and was looking far too relaxed for a properly dead man. He stretched his hands behind his head and leaned back casually. "Would you mind turning that thing up a bit?" he asked nodding toward the amplifier. "That way we can get Tosh back."

Jack look to his right and could barely make out Tosh sitting next to him. He got up and adjusted the dial until Tosh was in full focus, and looked less pained. "Thanks," she breathed.

"No prob-"

"Hold on," Tosh interrupted. "Little bit more. Can't hear a word you're saying."

He cranked it up as high as it could go. "Can you hear me now?"

"Yep!"

"Fantastic, because now I can't see," Owen griped.

"For god's sake," Jack grumbled as he toyed around with what had to be the equalizer on the device. "Quite the pair of ghosts you two are."

"Oi!" Owen snapped, throwing a vicious glare at his former boss. It seemed his vision was back. "How many ghosts do you see wandering around the globe? All those hauntings you hear about? Those are people who have been dead for centuries. The fact that you can see two of us and hear three of us is an impressive feat so a little recognition would be lovely!"

Three? Jack thought. He'd heard Tosh's voice that night and he'd heard Owen's voice he did not remember a third voice being heard at all. He was about to ask who the third person was until Owen looked at him as though he were the stupidest person who'd ever lived. "Really?" Owen sighed. He stared at him long enough to make even Jack uncomfortable before sighing yet again, this time angrily. "Are you deaf man? Really now?" He looked over at Tosh. "Is he sure that Jack's heard him?"

"Beyond sure," Tosh replied. She turned her attention to Jack. "Have you ever heard anyone else talk to recently? By recently I mean since about the time you returned to Cardiff, usually in response to some offhanded comment or thought that reminds you of him." she asked warily.

No way, Jack thought. Tosh and Owen was one thing. He was dealing fairly well with them. Throwing _him _into the mix was the express route on the road to insanity. He opened his mouth to deny what Tosh was implying but something flew across the room to smack him across the back of his head. He suspected it was the post.

"Ianto's been talking to you, you daft sod!" Owen's outburst was like an explosion. Everything in the living room rattled and Jack swore he heard something break in the kitchen. "Every single time since you came back to Cardiff, every single time you've heard his voice that's actually been him! My God did you really not see that coming?" He threw up his hands in disgust. "Tea boy was clingy enough when he was alive. Did you really think death was going to rid you of him?"

"Owen, stop!" Tosh ordered, her voice frantic but Jack could barely hear any of it. All he could hear in his head was Ianto's voice, all the times he'd ever heard it played through his brain on loop in what sounded like triplicate. His mind faithfully brought up every opinion, reply or comment he had thought had been his imagination. He'd never been alone, that same voice told him, never been alone at all.

His hands started to shake and he gripped tightly to the couch cushions to still them. Tears began to gather in his eyes and he fought to keep them from travelling any farther. As the symphony of Ianto's voice finally silenced he called out for Ianto mentally. "You there?" he asked. No reply, not even after a yell that would certainly have any telepaths in the area reeling. Not a sound.

"He's not here, is he?" Jack asked. He prided himself on managing to most of the emotion out of his voice. Having a flat, emotionless voice would fool them, right? "Not here with the two of you?"

"Oh look the drama queen is catching on," Owen mocked with a roll of his eyes. Jack wanted to fire something callous right back at him but the deceased doctor vanished from view and then Tosh's arms were around him, cold but solid and real. He clutched back, accepting the comfort and the closeness of his friend for as long as she could maintain it. It was ten seconds before felt the embrace dissolve and Owen came back into focus looking quite indignant. "Oh what was that little miss hold-off-because-we-want-to-stay-longer?"

Tosh ignored Owen and continued to focus her attention on Jack. She waited until he was looking at her until she spoke again. "Ianto has never been able to make you totally aware that he's been here so don't feel too bad about it," she comforted. "He doesn't always hear everything you think toward him and you don't always hear his replies." She sniffed, a barely subdued sound of wry amusement. "He's not very strong at this, this…manifesting thing. Even if he were here right now I don't think you'd be able to see him and he'd definitely have problems hearing and seeing you."

"Where is he then?" That was all that mattered. He'd take hearing Ianto and nothing but that if that was all Ianto could do.

"Out looking for your grandson." Owen had left the chair and was pacing the flat. Jack was too taken aback to feel the stab of grief that usually appeared on the rare times that Stephen was mentioned.

"How do you know about that?"

"We're not omniscient," Owen explained with uncharacteristic gentility. He did sound tired, though, so Jack marked it up to the effort he was putting in to staying in this world. "We only found out about it a short time ago, and when dear Ianto found out Stephen hadn't found his way out of the dark yet he decided to lead him out."

"Wait," Jack interjected. He held up a finger, tried to put his thoughts into coherent sentences. He was receiving one too many shocks tonight, he decided. "Every time I've died it's been the darkness and nothing else. Owen you said it was all darkness and so did Suzie."

"Well, yeah, you have to find your way out of it," Owen rolled his eyes as if he were stating the obvious.

"Or someone has to come find you," Tosh supplemented with grateful and loving expression directed at Owen. The Owen Jack remembered would have looked away, made some harsh comment, and then pressed on. Owen said nothing though, merely returned the gaze. Jack's heart warmed for the love he saw on both of their faces. Nothing had ever worked out for them when they were alive. Better late than never

"When you first die you're in the dark," Owen carried on. "That's all that their seems to be but if you wander around long enough, and avoid whatever is growling at you down there, you get out of the dark into the light." Jack snorted and was rewarded with a pillow thrown into his face. "Shut up, there's no other word for it. There's no tunnel of light, nothing flashes before your eyes, nothing stupid like that. You're out of the dark and in the light, and…" Owen trailed off, sitting himself down in the chair again.

Jack looked over at Tosh for an explanation but even she was unable to explain things. For a moment Jack felt a stab of jealousy. They were somewhere good and safe from what he could discern and he would never join them. Never get to see what was beyond the dark. Never get to join all those who had gone before him, those he had sent to their deaths.

The darkness wasn't permanent though and that thought filled him with relief. Then he remembered what they'd said about Stephen. Stephen had been alone in the dark for three years and he hadn't been able to find his way out and no one had gone after him. He wondered why Stephen's grandmother hadn't gone out after him; maybe it was because she didn't know what he looked like. Or because she was still in the dark herself. Jack stopped thinking about it; he didn't know which eventuality was more heartbreaking.

"No one figures out that there's more to the darkness right away, Jack," Tosh explained, trying to sound soothing instead of merely informative. "I'd be there right now if Owen hadn't gone to get me."

"I think I got an automatic pass out of the dark thanks to the whole zombie mess," Owen shrugged. "After I lost consciousness in the reactor room I was just there already."

Tosh nodded. "Anyway he found me and I found Ianto." She flashed a look of pity his way. "He was looking for you. He said you had to have died just after he had and he wanted an extra few seconds to say goodbye properly." She shook her head. "We couldn't find you, though. No matter how loud we yelled."

"I didn't hear any of that," Jack sighed. He'd looked for Ianto in the dark when he'd gone too. He yelled and reached and done whatever he could. He'd taken the lack of an answer as proof that maybe his last ditch attempt, the kiss that had revived him once before, had worked. Waking up to the realisation that it had been nearly as bad as watching Ianto die all over again.

Suddenly an odd sensation rippled through the air again and Tosh and Owen vanished for a few seconds before appearing again. 'Fuck," Owen gasped. "Okay, suffice to say death's not as bad as you think and Ianto's out trying to find your grandson. I'm sure he sends you his regards, or something like that, but we need to get to the point."

Jack sighed. The reunion had to have its dark point. "Alright," he said with a hint of defeat in his bravado. "What way is the world ending this time?"

Tosh arched an eyebrow. "Who said anything about the world ending?"

Jack paused for a moment. "Not that I'm not pleased to hear that but why-"

"If we said to you," Tosh began, that deviously victorious smile once again decorating her face, "that we think there's a pretty good chance of sending a certain archivist back to your side of the looking glass would you be interested?"


	6. Chapter 5

It took a moment for that question to sink in. It took a few more for him to understand that Tosh was serious. Then the absolute joy – no, _exaltation – _crashed over him. He'd lost too many people in his life but it was Ianto's loss that haunted him above all else and each of them pained him in different ways. Ianto's loss, though, was something he dealt with every day for the past three years and doubtless would continue to feel for the rest of his existence. Most days it was like having a toothache, annoying but manageable, but some days it would flare up so bad that it was more like what Jack gathered amputees must feel when they felt like their lost limbs were still being torn from them.

"What do I have to do?" was his spoken answer. The 'yes, oh god yes' was implied but also blindingly obvious. Owen's less than subtle eye rolling certainly told him that.

Tosh opened her mouth to answer that but she suddenly vanished before she could say anything. Jack looked over at Owen and found him trying to grasp onto the sides of his chair, fingers slipping through the wood. "Shit," Owen rasped. "Tosh!" he hollered. "Here, you handle it!" With that Owen disappeared and Tosh reappeared, transparent face gleaming with something like sweat and taking in heaving, unnecessary, breaths as her hand clawed at her chest.

"You need to get Ianto's body," she forced out.

All that hope and joy collapsed in him. He hadn't attended Ianto's funeral but he knew what had become of his remains. "Tosh, he was cremated and his ashes were scattered. I can't-"

Tosh shook her head. "He wasn't cremated." She gasped and he watched in frozen horror as Tosh dissolved into the upholstery. The last thing he heard from her was a cry of "_UNIT_!"

Jack waited a few moments, hoping for his friends to rally and reappear to explain to him that really he had not just heard Tosh imply that UNIT had Ianto's body. That whatever remains had been given to Ianto's family had not been him at all. Jack checked the clock on the wall, three in the morning. The desire to phone UNIT and demand an explanation for what he'd just heard was beyond tempting but he knew he had to find out exactly what had happened from the time he and Gwen had left the auditorium turned mortuary to the time that Ianto's remains had been collected. Gwen had to have dealt with that, Gwen would have thought it her personal duty to do that.

He grabbed his phone and sent out a text message calling a nine a.m. meeting. He forwarded the same message to Martha and Rhys as well. Martha would be able to explain the UNIT end of things and Rhys would have been at the funeral as well. He needed another opinion aside from Gwen's if only to make sure Gwen's hormones or own grief hadn't clouded the facts too much.

If what was implied was true, that UNIT had been stockpiling the Thames House Ninety Six, for the past three years, Jack had no problems going public and blowing the whole thing wide open. There was clearly no health risks with the bodies, Gwen wouldn't have been allowed within twenty feet of him and Ianto if that had been the case. He had had little patience with government before the 456 mess and he had even less of it now. UNIT had been frustratingly absent during the whole mess and he was less than pleased with them as well, and both bodies were certainly terrified of him.

And they had every reason to be, Jack fumed. If they thought that a lowly vault was going to keep Ianto locked away from him, whether there really was a chance for him to come back or not, they had more than another thing coming to them.

More than another thing indeed.

- - -

The early call had been received by everyone at the exact moment it had been sent, they had all been trained well of course and all had arrived on time. All except Rhys that was. "You try finding a babysitter at three in the morning!" was his barely restrained explanation.

"Jack!" Tegan shouted from her spot on Gwen's lap. Jack exchanged a quick wave with the doe eyed little girl before letting Gwen get back to trying to get her to eat and getting back to defending himself from an angry Rhys.

"You're on my staff, Rhys," he reminded him sharply.

"I'm on your _reserve_ staff," Rhys corrected just as sharply. "Not that I mind it or anything but I need the notice!"

"I agree," piped in Martha, who was sitting at the opposite end of the table across from Jack. "I'm surprised UNIT let me go over here as easily as they did but we can't always expect that."

"I'd appreciate the notice," Harry added, a mighty yawn mangling his speech. "I would have gone to bed quite a bit earlier had I known about this."

Mel said nothing, merely rolled her eyes at the stream of complaints and waited for Jack to get to the point. She looked a bit tired herself but she, wisely, kept any complaints she had to herself.

"Would it make anyone feel better if I were to confirm to you that I am not insane?" Jack offered. Usually there would be a quip about whether or not he was sane to begin with but it seemed that he was working with a tough crowd today. It also took longer than he thought for someone to catch on.

The good doctor finally clued in. "So the thing I found in the archives worked?" he stuttered. "You mean you actually…"

"I had a nice chat with Toshiko Sato and Owen Harper last night." He informed them while keeping his face serious. He didn't want to give them any reason to think he was having them on. Despite this a few expressions of concern for his health and suspicions of a joke crossed everyone's face for at least a few moments. He keeps his expression steady and then received a wonderful show of reactions.

Mel raised an eyebrow and nodded her head. She was waiting for the next move.

Harry was still silent while Gwen and Martha simply lost all muscular coordination in their faces, their lower jaws falling toward the table.

Rhys simply yelped. "Get out! Really?"

Tegan cooed happily and reached over to pat her father's face. "Really!"

"Really, really," Jack echoed with small laugh. The whole night seemed quite surreal to him, as if it had been a dream or a fantasy more than an actual event. It had probably been a mistake to go to sleep right away, things might have still seemed tangible to him had he not done so.

"How are they?" Gwen asked with wide and concerned eyes. "Are they okay? Are they safe?"

"They seemed perfectly fine to me," Jack replied, finally taking his seat at the head of the table. "Owen's sense of humour has not changed and Tosh is as long suffering and lovely as ever."

Gwen nodded. She seemed relieved but Rhys seemed to sense something that Jack hadn't. He grasped her hand tightly and even Tegan seemed to notice as she clutched her mother tightly and made some soothing cooing sound into Gwen's breast.

"So is the world ending then?" That was Harry talking.

"Not at all actually," Jack felt some sort of giddiness and knew there was a ridiculous grin crossing his face. "They say that they can send Ianto back. Back here. Back alive." It was so odd, so surreal and so right to say those words.

There was collective gasp from everyone except Mel, who merely jerked her shoulders a bit in shock. "What do we need to do?" asked Martha.

"How is that even possible?" questioned Harry. "And why Ianto? Why not the both of them as well? Or anyone else for that matter?"

"I don't know." Those were questions that hadn't really even occurred to him and, truthfully, he didn't really care all that much. Ianto Jones was within his grasp and Jack would get him back. End of thought process. If Tosh and Owen could come back as well they would have said so. Owen _definitely_ would have said something. "We didn't exactly get that much time."

"Are they going to come back?" asked Martha.

"I hope so," Jack answered. He was trying to sound confident, and he thought he was doing rather well, but he was truly in unknown waters here. More so then he had ever been he guessed. He continued on anyway. "The only reason they left when they did was because they didn't have the energy to stay physical any longer. Even with the amplifier's help."

"So how does this all work?" Rhys asked. "How long can they stay? Are they the only ones?" Had he paid attention to any of the previous conversation?

"Does it matter right now?" Mel countered. "We have no way of finding out those answers right now and I seem to recall a motion to assist Ianto Jones back into the land of the living being tabled, am I right?" Once she'd received a nod from everyone around the table she looked over at Jack. "What we need to deal with right now is not the what or the why but the how."

"The how is rather up in the air right now," Jack said. "All they had a chance to say was that we needed Ianto's body." He directed his attention to Gwen and Rhys. "He was cremated right?"

"Cremated," Gwen confirmed. The hope was and joy was leaving her with all the speed that it had left him last night. "All the bodies at Thames House were cremated."

"So you didn't cremate him yourself," Jack asked, leaping on the detail and anger already starting to cloud his words. "He was given to you?"

"In a tin," Rhys specified with a disgusted shake of his head. "A bloody little tin with the number fourteen written on top of it and they knew his name when we came to ask for him." This time it was Gwen who offered comfort, squeezing her husband's hand while her own eyes reflected her anger at the situation. Jack, for a moment, was glad he hadn't gone to collect Ianto's remains himself. That would not have ended well.

"Too many people," Martha said sadly in answer to everyone's unspoken question. "They should have had his name on it though. All of those victims were government employees one way or another and it's not as if they were unidentifiable…"

"Did you know anything about this, Martha?" Gwen cut in.

Martha bristled ever so slightly. "I was on my honeymoon at the time and had no way of getting back there when they called me. No one was sending any air traffic anywhere for any reason. Once I was back they didn't see much point in dragging me in to something that was more or less taken care of."

That statement removed a weight that Jack had not realised he'd been carrying. Martha would never, could never, lie to him. Not about this and not about anything. But some part of him had feared that she had.

"You alright, Jack?"

Jack ignored Harry, instead turning his attention to Martha and Gwen and telling her that UNIT had lied to them. UNIT and the government had lied to them all again. That UNIT had been hiding the bodies of the ninety six victims of the 456 attack at Thames House without the knowledge of their families for the past three years.

The reactions around the table were just as varied as the reactions to his announcement that he had had a chat with some friends who had been dead for four years. Rhys and Harry went bug eyed, Gwen and Mel's faces darkened.

Martha looked confused. "Jack, the bodies were released. I oversaw a few of the later releases."

"Are you sure?" Jack asked.

"Absolutely."

"Were they cremated?" Gwen asked. "I thought you said you weren't involved."

"Handing a crying relative a clipboard to sign and sitting there with bloody tin and saying 'sorry for your loss' does not count as being involved," Martha bit out. "Public health precautions were why everyone was cremated," she explained. "Whatever that virus was it wasn't contagious or we wouldn't have let anyone in there. The atmosphere was cleared more or less instantly after the last person to be affected breathed it in. We weren't taking any chances though and the families understood that." That last bit was definitely her trying to convince herself that the families understood.

"We did," Gwen told her after a moment. She sighed deeply, shifted Tegan a little on her lap, and then went on. "I almost had to deal with a similar mess. Torchwood policy on agents killed in action and all that."

A very familiar policy to everyone who had ever worked for Torchwood, Jack knew. There were still past agents' corpses down in the basement who had survived the blast. Fifteen to be precise. One day every single one of the people sitting around this table would be stored there. Everyone was by default okay with it by signing the contract. Very few exceptions were made. Jack had personally conducted the only two. The fact that Ianto's remains were not here told him that there had been a third conducted.

"Rhiannon was quite firm that Ianto was getting a funeral," Gwen told the group in a sorrowful tone. "I told her Torchwood policy on the subject, and I knew by then that the morgue had mostly survived the blast, and she was hearing none of it." Gwen sighed. "In a way I was relieved that he was cremated, that way I didn't have to choose what to do with him. There's no real policy about cremated remains after all…"

Jack walked over and grasped her shoulders, he would have taken her hands but they were occupied in keeping Tegan from climbing on to the table. "It's not your fault," he soothed, rubbing her shoulders gently. "You didn't know and there was no reason for you to suspect."

"Do we know for sure that Ianto's body is still stashed in a locker somewhere?" Harry asked.

Jack tensed slightly at the implication and nodded. "Tosh was more than confident. While they were the first to admit that they're not all knowing I'm willing to take her word on the subject."

"Also," Martha added quietly. "UNIT would very easily lie to one family for its own reasons. Ninety six is a stretch but one is not."

Jack didn't know which idea was more horrifying. That UNIT had lied to ninety six families or that UNIT had lied to one. If the latter was true the question of why became all the more important. Why wasn't Ianto's body released? Why were Gwen and Rhys lied to? Why was Torchwood never informed? What UNIT wanted him from him had to be done with by now. Also, technically speaking, Ianto's body was Torchwood property and there were certain rules to be followed when UNIT wanted to 'borrow' Torchwood property.

What the hell was going on?

"I wonder," Gwen mused. "What was in that tin then?"

Harry opened his mouth, clearly ready to give a list of ways that one could be led to believe they had their friend's ashes but a quick shake of the head from Jack silenced him. Jack didn't want to know and he was pretty sure that Gwen and Rhys didn't want to know either.

Mel cleared her throat abruptly and announced five words that seemed to still the room into something beyond silence. "I'll get him for you."

Jack looked at Mel. Mel Telson, Torchwood technician and former serial cyber terrorist, stared back at him with a look beyond a simple wordless promise. It was a gaze that told him on no uncertain terms that she would succeed in her task. "We need him back," Mel explained. "It's not like UNIT will give him to us if we ask, they would have told us that they had him if that were the case. They were supposed to have told us in the first place if I've read the policies correctly." Jack nodded, Mel continued. "So 'repossession' is necessary and I'm the logical choice. We can't risk Martha doing it." Martha's noise of objection went unnoticed.

Harry looked over at her warily, making Mel stop to wait for his objection. "Mel, I'm not sure that's…"

"You can't do it!" Mel snapped. "You've never so much as shoplifted in your life!"

"What if I want to do it?" Jack challenged. It was well within his rights and a little voice within him really wanted the chance to play the hero and get it right this time.

Mel snorted, a disdainful sound that did a wonderful job of effectively silencing that voice into nonexistence. "Boss, you're the first person they'd expect," she said. There was a touch of apology and a dash of regret behind the assertive tones. "I acknowledge how you feel but we don't need a hero here."

"That's what you think?"

"Subtly is not your strong point and that's what we need for this. You have every right to barge in there and yell and make them hurt, but we can do that later not now." He couldn't argue with that. "Plus," Mel continued. "Last I checked I was the resident expert on stealing things."

"Cyber crime is different from normal every day stealing, Mel," Harry lectured as if he were in fact the leading expert on such things. Gwen gave him a glare and Rhys was giving him the cut gesture, even Tegan was looking at him and shaking her head wildly. Harry either paid no mind or simply didn't notice. "And I would think that stealing a body, a body at UNIT's morgue, is different than stealing a TV."

"How do you think I got a hold of a computer, Harry?" she shouted right in his face. Harry scooted his chair closer to Jack. "I can tell you right now that I didn't buy them. Have you looked up the price of these computers?" she gestured toward her work station. "Most of those I brought with me to Torchwood and, like I said, I definitely didn't buy them." She gave Jack a pointed look. "You saw my set up, remember?"

Jack remembered. Mel had come under his attention for using an alien computer virus to hack into military bases and alter weapons settings. She'd been working as middle woman for a notorious arms dealer when their paths had crossed and her work station was filled with top of the line military and government computers along with the best public access computers money could buy.

Mel, despite her illegal activities, had not been a rich woman. There was only one way she'd obtained those.

"Okay," he agreed. "Martha," he asked. "Would you be willing to give her a hand with the planning stages at least? She'll need a road map."

Martha nodded.

"Gwen," Jack continued. "You give them a hand as well, check out the CCTV, find out what the security is like and how best to get around it."

"You gonna steal Ianto?" Tegan had decided to stand on her mother's lap and turn so she was facing Jack, who was still standing behind Gwen's chair.

Jack took Tegan's little hand and moved a bit of her black hair out of her face. "Yes we are," he told her solemnly. "But he's ours, right?"

"Right!" Tegan agreed.

"Then it's not stealing, is it then?"

Rhys raised an eyebrow at Tegan's eager nod. "Are you going to explain to her that stealing is not always okay?" he demanded.

"I'm not her father."

Tegan laughed her father's laugh. Jack had to fight not to join her. Her father's expression was certainly worthy of a good belly laugh.


	7. Chapter 6

One week later Mel Telson found herself outside UNIT's London base reverting to habits that she'd promised Jack that she'd never go to again. As much fun as bringing down a government was through a keyboard, as much as she loved the sound of a panicked manager when he found his best computers all stolen without so much as a fingerprint left behind thrilled her, she'd made Jack Harkness a promise in that Belfast prison in exchange for her freedom. Jack had seen something in her, Mel still had no idea what that was, and had taken her into his team and was shaping her into something amazing. She owed Jack for that.

Perhaps that was why she was doing this and perhaps that was why Jack hadn't really offered much resistance in her offer of grave robbing. She had never something as large as body before, let alone out of a stronghold such as UNIT, but she was always up for a challenge.

She had promised Jack she wouldn't do anything illegal anymore, not without his say so. She had been addicted to her previous lifestyle, she knew that now. If she ever fell into that pattern again Jack had made it crystal clear that she'd be back rotting in that cell with no memory of Torchwood or the people were quickly becoming family to her.

That was why Mel knew that this would be different. Her heart was already racing and her fingers were itching to start breaking open that gate, twenty more minutes to go before she could do that. Six months ago she'd pull this job, leaving herself the lowest possible safety factor and minimal time, and be halfway to planning the next one by the time she was out. The thing that would save her was that this was not an adrenaline rush, which was all it really was aside from a cheap and fun way to get computers, this was far more important than that. Profoundly more simple as well.

Jack Harkness had saved her despite the fact that she was not worth saving. She wanted to prove to him that his faith was not misplaced. If the way to do that was to retrieve Jack's boyfriend's cold, dead body she would deliver it gift wrapped if she had the time.

- - -

Getting in had been child's play. Knock out the guard, turn on that pen shaped device to shut off the CCTV, pray that Jack wired up the fake empty street scene correctly and keep powering though. Martha said the morgue kept a minimal staff at night. By minimal she meant maybe one night guard and one doctor and not too many human bodies. If Ianto was indeed down there he would be pretty easy to find. Mel really hoped Martha was right but wasn't willing to bet anyone's life on the idea that UNIT told Martha everything they told anyone else. The woman had quit the US division of UNIT to stay in London and to make frequent trips to Cardiff. Effectively she'd asked to be demoted at that raised anyone's suspicions.

The morgue was in the basement of the UNIT hospital, nothing unusual there. The trick would be getting in and Mel had that covered. Torchwood contact lenses were good for many things, one of which being to project whatever the retina scan was looking for right back at it. These weren't the camera ones, thankfully. She hated being observed.

The next thing was to get rid of the guard and get in the morgue, also not a problem. Mel knew her size spoke against her but she'd been in a few fist fights in her time. The guy, whom she could see pretty clearly from the tree she was hiding behind, looked just those teenagers she'd deal with whenever she'd robbed commercial computer stores. She never was too violent with these ones. She'd gotten pretty good at knocking out people in one go with one punch. Bruising was inevitable, unfortunately, but at least it usually looked like the guy had put up a good fight. Good chance for him to make up a story about what happened to his mates.

She raised the pen and swore she felt as well as heard the cameras shutting down and the tapping of Jack's fingers on her keyboard back in Cardiff. She waited thirty seconds and then, as soon as the boy's back was turned ran to shut him down.

Mel Telson was twenty five years old. She had seen and done many things in her life but everything seemed to pale in comparison to what caused her trip over her own feet and stare up from the ground in wonder and fear.

A well dressed man appeared behind the guard. Clothes weren't something Mel typically paid any attention to but this man was looking quite sharp. Even more so considering that she was quite sure she was seeing a ghost. He appeared solid but she could see a bit of the bolted blast doors behind him and he was as pale as the moon hanging overhead.

Who the spectre was should have been obvious but she didn't recognize him until he strode _through_ the guard, turned to face him and shouted "BOO!" so loudly that Mel feared that the entire city had heard. The guard blinked at him in shock, either a question of a scream ready to break from behind his lips. The sound never made it though as the man pulled back his arm and, with one punch, sent the guard spiralling to the floor.

"Thought I'd save you some trouble," the spectre explained as he made is way toward her. He shook out his hand and Mel wondered if a punch of that magnitude still hurt as badly to a ghost as it did to a living person.

Instead the first thing out of her mouth was "I thought you couldn't manifest."

"Not typically," he agreed. "However it seems that I can crop up here with minimal difficulty. Probably because I technically am already here." He sniffed and attempted to straighten out his vest. It refused to bow to his wishes. His purple silk tie was just as insubordinate. He sighed again. He was beginning to look very uncomfortable. Mel then remembered that this had been a man who had spent most of his life unnoticed and underappreciated; and she'd just done a wonderful job of underestimating him.

She made her way over to him as easily as she'd make her way toward any one else and she made sure to not break eye contact with him. "Mel Telson." She held out her hand.

He regarded her hand with an expression somewhere between confusion and fear but eventually took it. The hand that grasped hers was cold as ice but she didn't let her discomfort cross her face. "Jones," he replied with a bit more force than necessary. Like he was trying to press his name into her brain with the power of his voice. "Ianto Jones." He looked at her with a hint of caution. "But you already knew that didn't you?"

Mel nodded. She felt the need to add that she was a Torchwood operative but she reckoned that Ianto already knew that or he wouldn't have helped her. The next comment confirmed that.

"So the mission is to break in and walk out of here with my corpse is it?"

"Yep," she confirmed with the same even, matter of fact, tone. "You're Torchwood property. We're repossessing you."

Ianto snorted. It seemed to be one if disdain but Mel wasn't sure if it actually was. "One of the many things I love about Torchwood," he said. "You never really stop being a part of it."

"I think there's a clause to that effect in the contract."

"I seem to remember that as well." Ianto straightened. "Now, since I am still part of Torchwood, though I don't really remember the last time Torchwood employed a ghost, shall we get on with the mission?"

Mel nodded. This was officially the oddest thing she'd ever taken part in.

- - -

The layout was exactly as Martha had described, not that Mel had doubted her. She found herself simply pretending not to know where anything was in order to give Ianto something to do. He was looking more alive, for lack of a better word, than he had since first appearing to her. He dispatched the doctor and other guard that Martha hadn't known about, not even dreaming of allowing Mel to do anything herself. She had thought it was because he wanted her safe, which was probably true, but she soon learned that punches delivered by ghosts left no trace. The guards would have nothing to go on except saying they were punched by a dead man. They'd be lucky if they weren't sent for evaluations.

The morgue was smaller than Mel was expecting even with Martha's comment about UNIT not hoarding bodies in the basement. An examination area and the drawers themselves, nothing more special than that.

"Fourteen," Ianto supplied as she moved toward the drawer labelled '1'.

That made sense. Mel grunted an acknowledgement and mentally kicked herself for her own stupidity as she worked on breaking the old fashioned key lock on the drawer door. It was strange though. The drawer did not feel cold at all, she could feel the chill in the room so the other ones had to be working properly but drawer fourteen felt just like a drawer. She really, really hoped that this was a recent development.

The lock opened and Mel wasted no time in opening the drawer and going for the zipper on the body bag. She needed to assess the damage and call for backup if needed. She was working under radio silence, as per her own request, but she had Jack that if anything got out of hand that she would call him. She certainly classified a less than preserved corpse as a good reason to break radio silence.

She breathed a sigh of relief when the body appeared to look just fine. Or at least as fine as a dead body was supposed to look. She was about to comment to the body's former occupant how good he looked for a dead man when Ianto informed her that the drawer's freezer unit had never been activated, that his body had been lying here at room temperature for just over three years.

Mel raised an eyebrow. "That's impossible." It was a ridiculous statement and she knew it. She saw the impossible everyday, she was chatting with it right now.

Ianto seemed to agree with her as he offered a slightly condescending shrug and pointed toward the computer in the examination area. "It's all in there if you can get in."

Mel took a seat and did just that. She heard Ianto whistle his approval from behind her. "I've hacked UNIT before," she explained with some measure of pride.

"Nicely done," Ianto complimented. "What's that you're doing now?"

"Signing you back over to Torchwood," she replied as she typed. "I wasn't joking about the repossession bit."

"Evidently."

With that done she pulled up the file folder labelled "Subject 14." Hopefully Ianto was right and there would be some sort of explanation for the strange storage of Ianto's body. The file outlined the protocol for all of the Thames House victims, scanning to see they weren't still harbouring the virus, and Ianto was the only one that set the scanners off. It hadn't been the virus, though. Something was regenerating inside of him and no one could figure out what it was. That was obvious by the difference between the photographs comparing the state of the corpse from 19 September 2009 to 23 September 2009. A scratch on his cheek had disappeared and he'd regained his colour. No life signs whatsoever though, and no explanation in the ensuing three years.

Mel removed a memory stick from her pocket and proceeded to copy all the files on "Subject 14" that she found. Harry was a numbskull but he was a good medical mind, he'd be able to find something. Martha Jones was an expert in alien physiology as well. With the two of them working together she had no doubt they'd find something that the other doctors had missed. Records showed that very little had been done with the case in the past year or so. It wasn't threatening, just a curiosity, so they kept the body close by in case anything interesting every cropped up. It made perfect sense to Mel, it was something she probably would have done herself.

"At least that means no one is going to miss you too badly," Mel quipped. No reply. She turned around in her chair to find herself alone. "Ianto?" she called. "You there?"

She heard something that sounded like Welshman shouting "hello!" down an elevator shaft. "Can't see you!" she said loudly. "Or hear you too well either."

Ianto appeared three minutes later. Had he been alive she imagined that he'd be sweating and calling for water. He was taking great heaving breaths and he seemed to be trying lean against the wall. He was losing his physical presence, she noticed, she could barely see him.

"It seems," he rasped. "That this is easier but not effortless or limitless." His blue eyes filled with regret and Mel felt compelled to hug him. She hated hugs.

"Don't worry about it," she assured him. She moved back to his body and zipped up the body bag. "I can get out from here." She heaved the body over her shoulders in a fireman's carry.

Ianto nodded his thanks. "One thing first," he forced out. She wanted to tell him that it could wait. He was sagging to his knees now. Whatever he had to say could not be this important, could not be worth this pain.

"Tell…tell Jack…" he continued. "Tell him…." He stopped and he relaxed, sagging to the floor. "Stephen's safe," he finished in whisper and she watched him fade away into the tiles.

Mel stood there for some moments. It was as if the floor had swallowed him up. She stared at that spot in horror for several moments before her legs decided to move and carry her out of the building.

She had no idea who this Stephen character was but he was some one important. Some one incredibly important to Jack. That would be an awkward conversation.

- - -

Jack was waiting for her at the hub as was agreed. Everyone else had long gone back home but Jack waited. Again, not like she expected anything less. She did hope that Jack was doing something constructive with his time. Jack may be her boss but she had every intention of punching him in the face if she had any reason to suspect he had sat in the underground car park waiting for her, or if he'd been sitting in the office trying to find ways of spying on her heist anyway. Mel took great pride in the fact that if she wanted to remain unobserved that she always remained unobserved.

Jack was in the car park when she pulled in. She rolled down the window a crack and bolted the doors. "Before I open this door," she warned. "I want you to swear on your mother's grave that you did not just sit there and wait all night after you rigged the cameras."

He laughed but Mel refused to even crack a smile. That smile was meant to disarm her, to make her less serious. She was too tired for that trick and too shaken. It wasn't every day she stole a body out of UNIT, after all. The adrenaline was leaving her system and the impact of the appearance of Ianto Jones was beginning to hit her. It took longer than Mel would have expected for Jack to catch on. Eventually that million dollar smile fell from his face. "I was in the Hub catching up on paperwork most of the night I'll have you know. I only came down here when the tracker told me you were back in Wales."

"I'm sorry but the idea of you doing paperwork is a little hard to believe."

"Eventually I have to do something to clean up my desk," Jack grumbled. "Trust me it's nowhere near done and I'll probably be working on it well into the next century." He sighed angrily and rubbed at his eyes. They were certainly red enough to suggest that he'd been crouched over a desk reading. Mel decided to believe him. She unlocked the door and slid out. Jack was right behind her as she opened the back door. They stared at the body bag for a few moments. Out of the corner of her eye Mel saw Jack's face. It was the face of someone trying very hard to remain stoic but ripples of emotion continued to flow across his face. His eyes were unnaturally bright, his head was titled up slightly and he was biting the inside of his lower lip.

"Me or you?" she finally found the courage to ask.

"Me." Jack reverently scooped up the body into his arms and began walking back up to the Hub. He looked like a pallbearer, a military man and a father all at once. He carried his burden as lovingly as if it was a small child but his demeanour was mournful as well as profoundly dutiful. It was funeral procession of sorts, a funeral that Jack had never found the courage to attend. He was making up for it now. Mel found herself falling into a slow march behind him all the way up to morgue.

"Don't bother," she pre-empted when they entered the morgue. The command to open up one of the free drawers fell silent behind Jack's lips. "Get him up to the med bay, I'll show you what I mean."

Once they there Mel positioned herself on the other side of the examination table and managed to catch Jack's eyes. They were glistening. She had never seen Jack Harkness cry and she wondered if tonight would prove to be a first for that as well. "You remember what he looked like when you last saw him, right?"

He nodded.

"Then prepare to be amazed." She grasped the zipper and yanked it down displaying the earthly remains of Ianto Jones from the waist up.

There was a flash of pain behind the eyes but it was quickly overcome by shock, concern and a touch of revulsion. "What the _hell_?" he snapped. "What the…" He reached shaking hands to Ianto's face to cup it between his hands. It was gesture of tenderness but also one of investigation. "He's warm," Jack reported. One hand moved to Ianto's neck and waited. "No pulse though." Jack blinked for a moment as though shocked at his own disappointment. "What happened to him?"

Mel shrugged and pulled out the memory stick. "They don't know but they've certainly tried." She pulled the stick away from Jack's fingers and put it back in her pocket. "You're not doing this tonight. We can give it to Harry and Martha tomorrow and maybe they can make sense of all this medical talk."

Jack folded his arms and stared at Ianto again; one hand fell to dig out Ianto's and held it. "I'm staying here," he said, leaving the 'with Ianto' hanging in the air. Mel was not even going to try and talk him out of that. She did advise him to use one of the cots that Gwen had brought over instead of camping out on the floor or, God forbid, trying to squeeze onto that table with Ianto.

"I have a message for you." It was only when Jack looked up at that she realised she'd spoken. "From Ianto," she clarified.

Jack seemed to pale. "You saw him?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "Apparently he could manifest there because that's where his body was. He couldn't stay long but he did what he could while he could."

Jack's smile was heart wrenching and he shut his eyes for a moment. "What did he say?"

Mel told him and watched as her boss fell apart. The feeling that lanced through her was the same one she'd felt when she'd watched her father break down at her mother's funeral. Watching the leader, the rock, of any family unit cave was like watching the foundation of your home disappear. Jack was happy, it was good news after all so he had to be happy, but whatever had happened had been something that overshadowed whatever had happened to this Stephen person.

She didn't like hugs but she made an exception in this case. She pulled him into her arms, gently pulling Ianto's hand out of his to stop them from pulling him off the table. "He's safe," Mel reminded him again. "Whatever happened before he's safe now. That's all that should matter now." This was incredibly awkward. She was horrible at comforting people. She hoped Jack remembered that.

"I know," he admitted.

"Who was Stephen and what happened?" Mel asked before he could sink any lower. She fully expected Jack to say no or to change the subject or to order her home or something. Instead Jack pulled back, took a calming breath and pressed on.

"Stephen was my grandson," Jack said lifelessly, as though he was merely reading a fact sheet. "I killed him to save millions of children from the 456."

The shock rocked through Mel but she filed it away. She could feel it later. Right now all she needed to do was listen to him and trust his judgement. Had there been another way he certainly would have taken it. She had absolute faith in that.

"Go on," she encouraged him.

He did.


	8. Chapter 7

For the first time in quite some time Jack had no idea what he was supposed to do or how he was supposed to feel. Part of him wanted to crawl back into the bowels of the Hub and never come out again after his chat with Mel last night.

She had remained the staunch realist even in the face of what Jack saw as his greatest sin. He could see the flicker of horror in her eyes and an itching revulsion in her fingers as her hand rubbed across her abdomen. Aside from those instinctual reactions Mel had remained cool headed and had agreed with him. "It would have been death to another child or something worse than death to us all. You were in a corner and out of time. What else could you have done?"

Hearing that statement from Mel hadn't really helped things. It had been something he had heard before and, though hearing her computer like brain come up with it did shove the words deeper into him, it certainly didn't change his sentiments. What helped more was that someone who had been completely uninvolved in the situation had come to the same conclusion he had.

"It was an awful call to make but it was the right one," Mel had concluded. "That seems to be the most distasteful part of this job, but it is something that has to be done."

And that was the biggest nightmare of it all. Jack may be good at making these decisions but he didn't want to make them. He didn't want to live forever with the fact that he'd killed Stephen on his shoulders, greater good or not. He didn't want to one day have to sent Mel or Harry or Gwen or any of them to die for the good of the universe.

The image of Ianto dying in his arms flickered across his minds eyes and he shoved it aside. The message behind it remained and spoke with Ianto's voice: Some decisions were not all his. Cold comfort, he thought, thanks for that, Ianto.

Mel had not left him alone that night. She'd pulled out the cots that Gwen had left there for long nights and had set one up beside the examination table. Then she'd lowered the examination table down so Jack would be level with Ianto's body. Mel had then left them alone, taking her cot up into the conference room.

Sleeping next to Ianto again had been a strange experience. Whenever he reached over he was warm and inviting but then he'd hear no breathing in the room but his own and notice that he couldn't feel Ianto's heartbeat or his chest rise. He'd ended up moving the examination table back up to its proper position, pressing a kiss to Ianto's deceptively warm forehead and somehow falling asleep despite the ache in his heart and in his stomach. This was something he'd missed but it was all wrong. It was a sick mockery of what sleeping with Ianto Jones was and what it meant to him. He didn't think he'd ever missed Ianto more than he had that night.

The morning had come soon enough with Harry and Gwen coming in earlier than normal in eager anticipation ts. Harry had looked more relieved and shocked to see Mel than anything else while Gwen had seemed much more surprised to see Ianto lying there. "Hello dear," she'd greeted the corpse in a voice that she had always set aside for Ianto. It was a big sister speaking to a little brother voice and, once again, he found himself reminded that he was not the only person who was a lesser person without Ianto Jones in their life. "You've been keeping well," she continued, the same shock and horror creeping into her voice that had been in Jack's own. "What's going on here?" she demanded with quiet fury.

"Mel found him like this," Jack reported while moving to the other side of Ianto's body to hold his hand. "He was never put in cold storage at all."

"Really?" Harry squeaked from behind Mel's left shoulder. The young woman started a bit and threw him quite the annoyed glare. Harry paid no mind to it. "I take it he didn't look like this on the actual day?"

Jack shook his head. Gwen followed suit. "Not at all," she reiterated.

Mel cleared her throat and reached into her pocket. "You might want to take a look at this. Perhaps even send it to Martha as well." She tossed the memory stick at him, Harry barely managing to catch it.

Harry all but ran over to the computer and plugged the stick into the drive. "We shouldn't draw too much attention to Martha. I'm sure they've noticed that something of theirs has gone missing. I'm surprised we haven't received a phone call yet."

"Don't count on it," Jack said. "Mel took care of that already," he flashed her a grateful smile. Jack knew they also would not dare think of calling him. They wouldn't mention it unless he did and he was just fine with that. He didn't plan on mentioning until the body on the bed was alive and able to stand with him again.

"Alright," Harry announced, "everybody out! Playing mad scientist over here and I don't want you lot in the way."

Gwen and Mel left pretty easily but Jack stayed behind. When Harry gestured at him again to exit his domain Jack still couldn't move. "I'm not going to lobotomize your boyfriend, Jack," Harry assured him. "Now would you please give Jones and I some space?"

"Come on!" Gwen yelled back. "Mel says you have some paper – "

The rift alarm sounded and instinct took over. Gwen was in her seat and spouting out an address.

Mel had already disappeared into the underground car park and Jack raised a warning finger to Harry. "You deal with this; we'll let you know if we need you." He rushed up for his coat, gun, and Bluetooth.

"Watch yourself, Jack!" Gwen warned.

"Don't I always?"

There was nothing left in Jack's mind but the call. He switched his Bluetooth on and soon found himself in the car with Mel driving off to deal with a gaseous blue cloud appearing by a florist shop.

"You both there?" Gwen again.

Mel and Jack both answered in the affirmative. They were already on the road.

"Right," Gwen continued. "Here's what we've got…"

- - -

Jack came back to life staring at an overturned rubbish bin. "Oh come on," he groaned as he rolled away from the stench. He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to remember the black and trying to remember the grey figure he'd seen. It was definitely bigger and definitely closer than it had been all the other times. That radio static sound had gotten so loud that Jack could still hear it ringing in his ears.

"Jack?" Mel's Irish lilt managed to dispel the static and he wasn't sure if he was thankful or not for that. A huff followed. "Jack, I know you're awake. You're squinting."

The grey figure vanished and there was the pint sized red head that seemed to have taken care of everything. "Got it?" he asked.

"Oh yeah," she assured him. "Lemon juice to the centre of the cloud, just like you said."

"Told you so."

Mel shrugged. "I'm wrong, it happens." She gave him a hand and he took it. "See anything?" she asked as she pulled him up.

Jack took the SUV keys out of Mel's jacket pocket. "Yep, same old grey thing. Still nothing special."

"Did you poke it with a stick?"

Jack looked at her and laughed heartily. "I wouldn't call it a stick personally…"

Mel looked at him in complete bafflement and then burst out laughing herself. An atypical response from her. "Proper Jack is back," she assessed. "Took you long enough."

He had to admit that he hadn't felt like proper Jack in quite a bit. Maybe bit of death time had been good for him. A pain in the ass though it was, and this was turning out to be one of his easier ones, it certainly was a break from the insanity his life had become over the past few days.

They were in the car driving back to the Hub, both reassuring Gwen that everything had turned out okay with the Brydian Sleep Cloud. No one had been killed, a few people were napping peacefully but nothing worrisome, three people retconned. It was then that they were greeted with the sight of Harry Olden peddling past them not three minutes from the Hub on one of the rarely used bicycles in the basement. Mel had found them cheap shortly after she'd started work here and had kept them downstairs. Jack had thought it was the dumbest thing ever until the SUV had fallen apart and he, Mel, Harry and Rhys had gone out weevil hunting on bicycles. Harry, who had paid for medical school by working as a bike courier, had been thoroughly disappointed at their abilities and had advised them to all work out more. Then had started the bike wars…those had been fun.

"Where do you think he's off to?" Jack asked.

"The next universe if he goes any faster," Mel whistled. "Eyes on the road, please, not Harry's arse."

Gwen's voice crackled on the Bluetooth. "Our dear doctor is cycling over to see Martha. He needs a second opinion about his findings."

"Bad?" Jack asked, already on the alert and preparing himself for the worst.

"Didn't seem like it. Oh and Harry reminds you that it's your night to pay for pizza, want to pick it up before you get here? No peppers this time or Ianto's getting a proper autopsy, he says."

Jack didn't even register the joke. "No autopsy? Really? Why the hell wouldn't they have done an autopsy? That would seem the most logical thing in the world to do."

"That's probably one of the questions that he's going to ask Martha. I'll take anything but anchovies on my pizza, thanks." Gwen signed off.

Jack made the highly illegal u turn to get in the right direction for the pizza shop. "I'm getting him peppers anyway for that joke," he informed Mel, even though they both knew that he wouldn't put peppers on at least half the pizza.

Mel shrugged. "You have to admit, any other threat would have been ignored. The boy is catching on."

It was probably the first time that Jack had heard her give Harry a compliment without even a drop of sarcasm. He pretended to not notice and continued driving toward the pizza place. "Hey Ianto," he thought. "Things might be going in my favour. You interested? I'll even split the winnings."

Nothing. Typical, really. The more frustrating thing about the silence was that he wasn't sure if he should be worried or not.

- - -

They had demolished almost the entire pizza by the time Harry got back. The young doctor made an impressive dive for the last pepper free slices leaving a chorus of laughter in his wake. "Thanks for saving me some!" he griped as he shovelled the pieces in his mouth and threw himself down on the couch next to Jack. "You're eating with us? I thought you'd be over there with Jones?"

"Ianto never approved of eating in bed," Jack said mildly. "So I'm staying over here." Harry seemed to accept that response but Gwen, of course, and Mel even had a questioning look. He was more than a match for Gwen's questions but both her and Mel would be a force to be reckoned with.

No one spoke though instead Harry cleaned off his hands and summoned everyone down to the medbay. Once they were all gathered around Ianto's body like a first year medical class Harry asked Jack to kiss Ianto.

"Excuse me?" Normally Jack would be more than happy to oblige kissing anyone, especially if that person was Ianto, but this as a bit outside of his usual parameters.

"Kiss him," Harry repeated. "Put some effort into it but no tongue, please." He shuddered slightly. "Kiss him like the kiss alone would bring him back," he added quietly.

"Harry," Gwen chided, "really now?"

Jack raised a suspicious eyebrow. Was Harry insinuating something? It was odd when Harry went into medical mode; he was much harder to read and much more assertive. Jack knew they would stand here all day until he did as he was told. Jack shut his eyes and pretended Ianto was just sleeping. He kissed those lips as hard as he could, almost succeeding to forget the fact that he was not going to get a response, or even a grumble of protest. When he stood back up he heard Harry whoop and looked to see Harry staring up in delight at two images next each other on the main screen. The image on the left was just Ianto's body and there were irregular blips of energy floating around inside of him. The second image was a slow replay of Jack kissing Ianto and seeing blips of energy entering the body and then either fading away or joining with the other ones.

"What the fuck are those?" Mel asked, stabbing her finger at the floating blots of energy.

Harry's reply took the form of taping a new command on the keyboard and, in place of the images, a video file of Jack holding an unconscious Ianto in the old Hub trying to revive him. The Lisa incident, he remembered, and watched as his past self kissed Ianto hard and long until he came to.

Mel made some odd noise of approval. "Neat trick you got there, Boss."

"I didn't know that happened," Gwen stammered.

"That was the point," Jack said, dryly. "That was back in the days when only you knew about the immortality thing, remember?"

"Fair," Gwen allowed. She looked back at Harry. "But you don't mean to tell me that that kiss that long ago did this." She gestured pointedly at the immaculate three year old corpse in the centre of the room.

"Not that kiss," Jack murmured, slowly clueing in to what Harry had just proved.

Three taps later another video clip, this one of Jack holding a very dead Ianto and giving him a much gentler kiss before dying himself. "I was hoping that would do it," Jack explained as the video clip vanished. "Waking up and finding that it hadn't…" he trailed off, unwilling to touch that pain again. Once he felt that again there would be no going back.

"The kiss did work. Sort of." Harry assured him. "The kiss from November '06 worked because you were not dying yourself and there was actually something there to save." Harry's expression fell. "The kiss from September '09 was late, you knew that already. Ianto had packed up and left well before you'd bent over." Jack nodded, he'd figured that much out himself. He waited for Harry to continue.

"However," Harry went on, his expression perking up a bit. "It seems that whatever this stuff is…" he pulled up the Ianto only scan again and gestured at the little balls of energy bouncing around madly. "It does not enjoy finding nothing to latch on to. So it just stayed there, like a ball locked up in a box while still bouncing."

"So it all has just been bouncing around inside of him this whole time?" Mel asked. "There's nothing there to stop so it just kept going."

"Exactly," Harry beamed. "All that energy kept building up but there was no life force there for it to latch on to. So all it could do was Jones's body from decomposing, and I assuming healing whatever ills there were." He went over to his computer and read through it. "I see that there should be a scratch on his cheek and that's gone and there absolutely no traces Hexdrax 381 in his system, and that usually sticks around after death for a bit."

"Wait what?" Jack sputtered. "Hexdrac? The virus in Thames House that day was Hexdrac?"

Gwen shook her head. "No way! We've seen that virus before; it doesn't kill anywhere near that quickly!"

"I assure you that's what's there," Harry said in the same assuring tones. "The UNIT notes say it and Martha and I both agree with it. The 456 must have done something to enhance it, probably in whatever they did to turn the virus into a mist."

"Why does the mist matter?" asked Gwen.

"Hexdrac is not contagious," Harry explained. "Remember those doctors? They'd all been injected with it in whatever inoculations they'd taken from the aliens before they'd done the surgeries. No one got sick from being near them. Same with at Thames House, once the mist had cleared and everyone was dead the virus just dissipated. Whatever the 456 did to change it into a mist was done to make it contagious and fast spreading and really bloody quick."

Just when everything made some sort of sense there always had to be something to throw a monkey wrench into the whole affair. "Okay," Jack began with a deep breath. "So Ianto and the others all died of Hexdrac 381. Everyone else was released to their families after the virus dissipated, whether in the air or deep into the victims themselves. All accept Ianto for obvious reasons. So they kept him behind to try and figure out what the hell was going on."

Harry nodded but Mel wasn't satisfied. "They never figured out Jack did this?" she asked. "They just gave up and left him?"

"I don't typically go around kissing people back to life," Jack bristled. "Shocking though it may be the situation doesn't crop up all that much so I highly doubt UNIT would think I would have done this. What they probably did think was that something here might have done that to him but they ruled that out when we had UNIT working with Gwen, Rhys, Martha and I in the rebuilding days."

Gwen nodded. "Once that was done, there was nothing left to do but wait and see if anything were to change. And it wasn't like they could ever release Ianto back to us when they supposedly already had." She snorted. "That would have gone over brilliantly."

Mel snorted as well while Harry merely rolled his eyes. "Good thing they never gave him an autopsy," Harry added. "All that energy might have just vanished; they certainly figured that much out but couldn't find a way to extract it."

A silence fell across the room until Gwen asked the important question. "Now what?"

"Now," Jack replied. "We find out what to do next."


	9. Chapter 8

When Jack elaborated that statement by saying he was going to see if he could contact Tosh and Owen he did not refuse Gwen's request to come along. Harry had blinked in obvious surprise while Mel had raised a curious eyebrow but said nothing. Jack had to admit that they had every right to be taken aback. Jack really didn't make a secret of the fact that he preferred to keep the flat to himself. Mel and Harry had never seen the place and even Gwen had been in a handful of times. Thing had been different when Ianto had been alive. There had been no problem when they'd lived there together about having Gwen and everyone over for drinks occasionally. In the year before the 456 Gwen and Rhys had been regular fixtures.

Jack had stopped all that once he'd moved back in. He really couldn't understand why except through the lens that it was something of Ianto's that survived, something of them that still survived and that he could still touch. Jack was not willing to share that, not with anyone. In this instance, however, as he was hoping to get a hold of Tosh and Owen, Gwen had the most right to be there out of everyone. If they were going to have a proper team reunion it had to be done properly.

Mel seemed to understand this concept without it being told to her. She'd assured Gwen and Jack both that everything would be on them and Andy Davidson tonight. No phone calls would be made unless the world was ending. Harry had taken a bit more effort to subdue but a few choice words from Mel had shut him up in good order.

"Sometimes I wonder," Gwen thought aloud as she drove, "if Harry is just missing a part of his brain when it comes to this sort of thing."

Gwen was one to talk, Jack mused. She sometimes could be the same way but instead he said that everyone had their strengths. Said was perhaps a loose term. More accurately he leaned over and breathed it into her ear while resting his hand on her thigh.

She slapped his hand away, giggling. "Do you want me to crash this car?"

"As long as it's you and me, I'm up for anything," he leered.

A longer, harder laugh this time. "I ought to smack you, Jack Harkness. Maybe I will after we've done driving."

"Promise?"

"Jack! As pleased as I am to hear you making jokes like this again we do have job to do!"

"Spoil sport," he informed her as he slouched back into the passenger seat. He smirked at Gwen's supposed annoyed huff. "And don't worry about Harry; he's made of tougher stuff than we think. I wouldn't have recruited him if I didn't think he was up for it."

"I was the one who mentioned him to you!"

"Like I said, I wouldn't have let him have the job if I didn't think he was up to it. That includes the general team antics."

"That should have an extra form."

Jack laughed. "You're probably right about that one," he admitted.

Gwen turned on the radio, a dance song from a few years ago pounded through the speakers. Usually Jack didn't pay real attention to contemporary music but he had reason to remember this one.

It had been the summer after Tosh and Owen had died and Jack had decided the three of them needed to have some down time. They'd been really busy lately with the reduced manpower and were still dealing with the deaths of two dear friends. Jack decided that it was time for a night at the club. Gwen and Rhys had been all for it and even Ianto had agreed to it. Ianto normally would avoid clubs like the plague so that response had sealed the deal more than anything else, but that wasn't what he remembered.

Trying to get Ianto to dance at a club was damn near impossible. The select few times he'd taken the team out before Ianto had happily sat back with Tosh while Jack and the others had had their fun. This time, however, he'd drank a whole lot more than he should have and when Jack had asked Ianto had been the one to drag him to the floor. It had been the first and last time he'd seen Ianto dance at a club and it was this song that had been playing.

The scarce few times this song had popped up on the radio in Jack's presence since the 456 he'd quickly shut it off or changed the station. Gwen's hand was moving to turn it off now but he gently pushed the hand away. The image of an incredibly intoxicated, and uninhibited, Ianto flashed through his mind without a stab of pain. A part of him whispered that maybe he'd get to see that again.

His cheeks hurt; he must be grinning like a moron. He reached for the volume dial and cranked it up. The review mirror shook and the bass pounded through the car. To top things off, Jack began to sing. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gwen staring at him in concern. After a moment she rolled the windows down and joined in with just as much enthusiasm.

It certainly had to be a strange sight but, as usual, Jack didn't care.

The stranger part was that, for a moment, he could have sworn he'd heard an annoyed snort and a whispered Welsh baritone singing with them.

- - -

"That was a wonderful display of terrible singing," Owen informed Jack and Gwen as soon as they turned the amplifier on. "Really now, I think you owe all of Cardiff for hearing treatments."

Tosh piped in from the couch. "Really though, Jack," she sighed. "That was incredibly awful. I forgot how badly you could sing if you put your mind to it."

"Hey it wasn't just me!" Jack yelped, gesturing to Gwen. "She helped!"

Gwen was standing off to the side, frozen in shock at what was before her. Tosh moved to go toward her but Owen instead grabbed Gwen's arm and pulled her into a kiss. Gwen let loose a muffled yell and shoved Owen off of her. "OFF!" she ordered. The anger on her face changed to confusion as everything seemed to click into place.

"It's really me," Owen confirmed. "And that's really Tosh. No tricks."

Gwen reached out a hand and tried to touch Owen's arm only to have it fall through. "One time only trick," Owen winked. It was an attempt at light heartedness but the sorrow in his eyes was beyond hiding. "Be sure you remember it."

Tosh patted the seat next to her. "Good to see you, Gwen," she said cheerfully. "Now come have a seat before you fall over."

Gwen did as she was instructed and Jack took the seat by the television, Owen throwing him a dirty look as he summoned the footrest over to the other side of the room, completing the circle. The girls on the couch, the boys on the chairs; some things never changed.

"How are you, love?" Gwen asked Tosh somewhat awkwardly.

Tosh didn't bat an eyelash. "I'm fine. Really, I'm just fine. So's Owen and so's Ianto. Don't let the dead thing freak you out too much."

Gwen's face seemed to take quite the issue with that statement and Jack had to smile at that. He knew exactly how she was feeling, he still felt somewhat the same way. It was odd to have them sitting there so normally when his last real memories of them were of blood and pain. It didn't seem to bother them too much though.

"Speaking of Ianto," Gwen said. "Is he held up in spiritual traffic or something?"

Tosh didn't laugh. "No, no he's not. He's not coming for awhile."

"Tea boy over did it!" Owen griped. "He should've known better. You can't go about punching out guards and opening doors if you aren't strong enough to do it."

"Lay off on him, Owen," Tosh warned. "He was where his body was kept. It should have been easier for him."

"Should have," Owen reminded her. "Would have been if he wasn't so bloody awful at this anyway." He folded his arms and muttered some more colourful adjectives while Tosh continued to glare at him. "He should have just watched and not gotten involved, now we have to wait for him to come back."

"Come back from where?" Jack asked with a note of annoyance as well as concern. Ever since this whole of idea of Ianto coming back from death was pitched it seemed as though he was always just missing him. He was always just out of reach.

Tosh and Owen exchanged pained glances and eventually Tosh spoke. "You notice how you haven't heard from us until now," she began. "Owen and I taxed our own reserves the last time we were here. When…beings like us overdo it we…stop existing for a bit."

"Stop existing?" Gwen asked. "How do you mean? You lot are dead already aren't you?"

"And we're clearly do still exist anyway, thanks Gwen," Owen lectured snidely. "Think of our friend Jack over here. When he gets shot he dies and then comes back when he's healed properly. Same concept with us except there's nothing left of us while we're healing so to speak. We just sort of…vanish into whatever until we're ready to come back to ourselves."

"What's that like?" Gwen asked.

Owen shrugged. "No idea. I don't remember anything between losing consciousness and coming back to it." He raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Tosh, who shook her head apologetically.

"Sorry," she said. "From what I gather no one remembers where they go or what happens after that. All that matters is that we do come back, I guess."

Death was almost something he was glad he was exempt from, Jack thought. It sounded more confusing than living did. "He's okay though?" Jack demanded.

"Once he comes back he'll be fine," Tosh assured him. "He'll probably more than a little annoyed with himself but he'll be okay. It just means we have to wait until he's strong enough to go through the whole process of coming back to his body, and that he'll be strong enough to survive it."

Jack did not like that sentence. "What's wrong?" he asked. "His body is fine."

"True," Owen agreed. "However Ianto is going to come back to your world as he left it. It's an easier memory, sensation wise and thought wise, to grasp hold of. So he's going to come back as he was in Thames House that day."

Jack remembered Ianto's last moments quite vividly. They were far from peaceful or easy.

"So he'll be ill still?" Gwen asked, concern only now contorting her face. "He'll be dying all over again?"

Owen wavered his hand back and forth. "Not dying precisely, not physically anyway. He's going to feel everything he did for the last moments he was alive. So…" he looked over at Jack. "Ianto said that was respiratory distress, pain, dizziness, an overwhelming urge to make clichéd death bed declarations?"

Jack didn't answer that with anything but a murderous glare. Owen dropped his head. "That was low," he admitted. "I'm sorry."

"Forgiven," Jack replied curtly. "Go on."

Owen rubbed his hands together. "At any rate he's going to feel the effects as though he really has them. His body is going to react to that despite the fact there's nothing left in his system to cause that. Easy to deal with though, you know what he was ill with right?" He continued after two eager nods. "Just have the antidote on him and give it to him, should take care of that easily enough." A pause and then he sighed. "Look, I know that's not the best diagnosis in the world but I can't do much better than that. If Ianto hadn't gone worn himself like that in the first place, if had been conserving his strength the way he was supposed to be, I could be a bit more sure. Now I'm not sure. He was always going to need help – help meaning mine and Tosh's help – but now he's going to need a lot more of it."

Jack groaned and put his face in his hands. He didn't know whether to punch Owen now or to throttle Ianto when he came back. He was just fine with the whole idea when it was a more or less a sure fire thing. Very little in life was ever certain so he didn't know why he hadn't expected a hiccough like this. "I take it we only get one shot at this, right?"

"Yes," Tosh said sadly. "The only reason we can even send Ianto back is because of the energy that has been building up inside of him over all this time. Also Owen and I will be using what some of us have started calling our 'potential energy.' It's sort of the physical manifestation of what we could have been and accomplished had we lived full lives. What makes the whole resurrection concept work is our energy combining with what's in Ianto's body. Once that's all gone…"

That was it, Jack finished mentally. There were so many questions about their sources that he wanted to try but he kept silent. He had trusted Owen and Tosh when they were alive, he still trusted them now. He also trusted Ianto, who was the most efficient researcher he had ever known. If this was what hat been uncovered that was all there was.

"What happens to you two," Gwen whispered. "That's a lot of energy for you two to give up, isn't it?"

That thought hadn't even occurred to Jack and he mentally kicked himself for being so single minded and selfish. Tosh and Owen didn't seem as concerned, though. Tosh gave no reply at first while Owen merely shrugged. "We'll go off like Ianto's done for sure," he explained. "There's a chance we'll never come back to ourselves again but it's a chance we're willing to take." Owen rolled his eyes. "That stupid git tried to talk us out of it once he heard that bit. We're not stopping though."

Tosh nodded her agreement. "Ianto would do the same for either of us if there was a chance," she stated firmly. "He even admitted that. It just so happens that it's him with the chance. Who are we to deny him that? Who are we to deny you both that chance?"

Silence filled the flat then. Wonder, respect, gratitude, so many emotions were whirling around the group. Finally Jack managed to breathe out his thanks, even though the words were far from adequate for what they were doing for him and Ianto. Owen brushed off his thanks as merely his attempts to get Ianto off of his back while Tosh nodded serenely and said that he that was more than welcome.

"In the meantime," Tosh continued, rising from up off the couch and dusting imaginary dust off her trousers. "Owen and I had best be off. We need to conserve our strength, as you'd imagine. We'll let you know when we're ready to try." She smiled at Gwen and at Jack. "See you soon!" she chirped in excitement and then promptly vanished. Owen gave a salute and was gone at well.

Neither Gwen nor Jack moved for several moments. Five minutes later Gwen turned the machine off and asked Jack out for a beer. He was more than happy to accept.

- - -

It was nearly two weeks later when Jack woke up one morning to the smell of coffee being brewed. He couldn't remember inviting anyone over to stay the night and he certainly wasn't one to start a pot and then go back to bed. He heard a bit more banging around and that got him out of bed quickly enough. "Owen?" he asked the empty air.

No reply. When he reached the coffee machine he found that it had already been shut off and there was a single cup waiting for him. He took a cautious sip. It was a long missed, orgasmic flavour that washed over his tongue and journeyed down his throat. His eyes stung and his heart ached and it was then that he noticed the post it note tacked on the machine.

Five simple words in a very familiar hand had him reaching for the phone and calling Gwen with a speed he hadn't known he possessed.

_I'm ready when you are._

**Author's Note:** In my messed up mind the song that Jack and Ianto dance to, and the song that Jack and Gwen sing along to, is Fire Burning by Sean Kingston ;)


	10. Chapter 9

If they had looked like a medical class a few weeks ago they definitely had to look more like a group of mad scientists now. Ianto's body, still as unblemished as it had been when Mel had stolen it, was in the centre of the medbay. Jack was at Ianto's right side, Gwen on his left, Mel at his feet, and Harry up at his head. Each of them held one syringe of the antidote for Hexdrac 381 in anxious fingers. Two weeks had passed since the body had been reclaimed but they had been far from idle.

Aside from dealing with the usual alien business the team had done their research on what exactly had happened to the ninety six people who had lost their lives in Thames House that day. That meant lots of watching security footage, which Lachlan Telson and Lois Habiba had graciously provided. Harry and Mel had jumped on the footage, combing it for symptoms and methodology. Jack had wanted to help them but knew that he couldn't face watching Ianto and those others die over and over again looking for clues. Gwen had stayed far away from that as well.

Instead of subjecting themselves to painful memories, Gwen and Jack elected to focus on the positive side of this. Ianto was coming back and that meant getting him out of storage. Jack had packed many lives away in his time and the fact that he was unpacking one was both a reason to celebrate and reason to wonder what sort of life he led. He moved the boxes back but couldn't unpack them. He didn't want to jinx the thing and he knew well what happened when he was overly optimistic.

Now here they stood, each holding that antidote that was the product of Harry and Mel's research, which was a highly concentrated version of the original antidote for Hexdrax 381. It was so intense that it had to be delivered in shorter bursts. Instead of three injections ten minutes a part it would be four injections three minutes apart.

That would take care of the virus, what remained to be dealt with would be the man. Shock was inevitable. Jack had unpacked a pair of Ianto's pyjamas and had changed him into them and Harry had pulled out the survival kits and had wrapped him in a warm blanket. Aside from that they didn't know what else to expect and, therefore, had to be ready for anything.

That was the attitude that Jack was making sure was filling the room. They would be ready for anything and they would deal with it. This _would_ work. Ianto Jones would breathe again no matter what they had to do to make that happened. Jack was even willing to put up with Harry turning the medbay into a kind of hospital, something that it was never designed to be. Jack didn't know where Harry had found a hospital bed but he knew it certainly involved Mel and a screwdriver and didn't care to know more than that. Ianto was in that now and Harry had enough IV bags waiting to replenish an entire battalion. Harry had every intention of allowing Ianto to go home with Jack to recover but he was not allowing that to happen until Ianto's health met his incredibly high standards.

He was walking them through the layout of the place now. Drawing attention to defibrillators and different syringes and anything that Harry might yell for that one them might have to grab and, god forbid, administer. It was both important and almost a stall for time. "Once he has readings again," Harry was saying, this time directing the administration of the antidote and tapping the monitor that told them that Ianto Jones was dead, "I give the first dose then we proceed clockwise. That way I'm free to do what needs to be done when his vitals turn from that to this," he tapped something on the side of the monitor and the flat lines turned into rapid hills and valleys; the readings of a human being in shock. "Rough estimate of course," he admitted. He didn't need to say what they all well knew: no one knew enough and we had to be ready for anything.

"Any questions?" Jack asked.

No questions. Just looks of determination and readiness in all of their faces. Jack nodded. "Let's do it." He stepped back from the group for a moment and turned on the amplifier. "We're ready."

_Good, so are we_. That was Owen's voice. _You lot can all hear me right?_ Gwen nodded while Harry and Mel both vocalised their affirmatives. _Be ready for anything. I mean anything. If Ianto spontaneously combusts you should still be prepared for it. Understand? _A chorus of affirmatives. _Fantastic. Just one last thing: Jack, don't move._

Jack raised an inquisitive eyebrow but said nothing. His team looked at him but he offered nothing but a shrug by way of explanation. Did that count as moving?

The question didn't matter one second later when he felt an insistent pressure on his lips. He felt like someone had duct taped the coldest ice pack ever created to his mouth but he definitely recognized it as a kiss, a desperate and loving one. Both a parting kiss and a preview of future attractions; also a kiss he remembered on his loneliest nights.

"Ianto?" he breathed when the pressure faded away.

There was no reply. Jack looked down at Ianto's body, studying the still face, more specifically those inviting lips. Jack kissed his own fingertips and then pressed them to Ianto's lips and he fought to keep a straight face. He somehow managed to do it, or else his team was averting their eyes. He grasped Ianto's hand; now began the wait. Jack and Gwen watched Ianto while Mel and Harry kept their eyes to the monitor.

"Please let this work," Jack thought. It was a prayer and he knew it but he didn't want to think of it as prayer. That made the situation seem that much more desperate. "I believe in you, Ianto Jones. I believe in you and I love you and please for the love of everything _let this work._."

It was over an hour before they saw any physical reaction. Of course it had to happen when Jack had turned his head away from Ianto for a second for whatever reason. All three of them shouted his name and that snapped him back to reality pretty quickly. That and the sight of his lover glowing like he was surrounded by nanogenes certainly grounded one back in reality. He attempted to back away only to find that he couldn't. His hand was still caught in Ianto's, caught in an uncomfortably tight grip. He couldn't get his hand free.

"Jack you should probably step back," Gwen warned.

"Not happening," Jack shot back through grit teeth as he tried to wriggle out of the grip. Ianto's fingers might as well have fused into his hand for all the progress he was making. No prying, even at a strength that would have broken Ianto's fingers under normal circumstances, would even cause a finger tip to lift off of Jack's skin.

"He's not consciously doing it," Harry read off the monitors. "No brain activity so I can't even call it a reflex."

"Stand back," Jack snapped. "Everyone just stand back. At least a metre away, people!" Everyone instinctively took the required steps back before shouting their objections. Jack had to laugh at that. Indoctrination had its benefits. Many things had benefits. Holding Ianto's hands had benefits, he felt a pseudo familiar feeling settle in his stomach.

No. That wasn't it…

"I don't feel so good," he informed his team. His stomach churned and the glowing light blocked out everything else. He couldn't see past his and Ianto's joined hands, that or his powerful need to throw up. He felt someone's hand touch his shoulder and he knew he was barking at them to stay away, telling them to look after Ianto, that whatever happened he'd be okay in the end, but he was sure that it came out less than authoritative. Not that he could hear any of it…

- - -

It didn't even clue that he'd died until the radio static filled his ears. There was that grey figure again, bold and brighter than ever before. Then he saw there was something inside the figure, a head shaped something. The radio static suddenly stopped and the figure suddenly became a rather drab looking doorway. The head shaped figure turned out to be the head of Owen Harper. A very, very, angry Owen Harper.

"What the fuck did you do?" he shouted.

"Nothing!" Jack shouted back. "You didn't mention anything about flashing lights and fusing skin!" He inspected his hand and shook it out. Muscle cramps while dead, that was new.

"God," Owen huffed, storming out of the opening and towards Jack with frightening speed. "I asked for reinforcements and look what I get! Thanks a lot!" This last comment was addressed to Owen's lower left and he rolled his eyes. "Uncle Jack can do anything, sure, now shut up."

"Wait what?" Jack asked. "Who are you talking to?"

"How many people call you, Uncle Jack?" Owen snapped. "No time for that right now. While you're here you might as well make yourself useful." He grabbed Jack and dragged him through the doorway.

He couldn't see anything after that. A rush of shapes and noises greeted him as he was pulled into…wherever. One of them solidified into Tosh but anything she said came out as radio static. At least he knew what that was now. "Jack, listen!" Owen's crackling voice cut through everything. "I need you to think of pushing Ianto off a cliff."

"What?"

"Just do it!" Owen ordered.

Indoctrination appeared to work both ways. Jack was sure he'd only just blinked when he found himself standing on a cliff watching Ianto Jones in all his pre-456 finery investigate the gaping chasm before them. "A little florid, isn't this?" Ianto commented, toeing the edge and critically eyeing the abyss with all the emotion of someone reading a grocery list. "This looks like the cover one of those awful romance novels. The ones you can buy for less than nothing in tube stations." Ianto turned to face him.

Whenever Jack had pictured Ianto in his fantasies or in his nightmares they had been the man's extremes. The fantasies had been devastatingly handsome and the embodiment of sexual attraction. The nightmares were simply what the name implied. The Ianto of his memories acted firmly in the context of those memories. Ianto had died and a dead person could not change.

The Ianto that stood before him was a man who had gone on after death. He looked the same as that horrible September day but his eyes were older. So were his stance and his face and both spoke of someone who had been severely overworked for quite awhile. How long had he been trying to get back? He was exhausted and pale and clearly physically weakened despite the fact that he wasn't alive. Jack continued to look at Ianto's older eyes, those beautiful blue eyes were so full of joy and terror and love that Jack felt his heart was going to explode in his chest.

"Push," Ianto ordered, as though he knew what Jack was thinking. "I won't hold it against you." Everything in the way he said that statement did nothing to inspire confidence. That in itself was worrying since Ianto was an excellent liar. "I'll be alright," he promised anyway. "I won't let you down." He spread his arms out, like a man about to be crucified, and waited.

Jack had watched Ianto die once and he had no desire to do it again, especially if it was at his own hands. He didn't care that Ianto was already dead. He didn't care if this was supposed to help. He was not pushing Ianto off and watching him fall.

"Hurry up!" Ianto barked. Jack recognized the tone. It was a subtle mockery of the choice few times where Jack had needed to be killed by a member of the team to facilitate their goal. Jack moved, charging Ianto with all the force he could muster, but instead of shoving he grabbed. He wrapped the other man tightly in his arms, his being singing at that fact, and threw them both over the edge.

"I don't care if we're stuck in an airport again with nothing else to do," Ianto informed him as they fell. "I am never letting you read even the _synopsis_ of one of those things again!"

It was a better last thing to hear from the man he loved than "you won't remember me." Jack decided as consciousness left him. Cold comfort at its best.

- - -

Jack woke up to the sound of singing. He soon figured out that it was Gwen that was singing and that she was singing in Welsh. He'd lived and worked in Cardiff for a long time but very few people he knew could speak the language beyond a few phrases or curses, he barely could say 'hello' himself. This was familiar though. It was a slow and gentle tune that was either a lullaby or a hymn. He guessed it to be a lullaby when he heard the words for "mother" and "sleep." It was odd though because Gwen's voice was choked with emotion and that meant something was the matter with Tegan. But Tegan wasn't here, he remembered that much.

Suddenly Gwen stopped. "Hush, dear," she soothed whomever she was singing to. "It's alright. You're home, you made it."

Jack opened his eyes as everything made sense again. He quickly figured out that he was lying on the examination table. He carefully looked to his right. There was nothing there except the amplifier, turned off, and four empty syringes. He looked to his left to see Gwen's back. It was hauntingly familiar of when he'd woken up in Thames House.

Gwen continued to sing, oblivious to Jack's rising up off the table and staring at her. He swung his legs carefully over and, once he was sure that he could stand, moved to stand by Gwen and looked down.

Gwen was holding one of Ianto's hands tightly in hers and her free one was resting on his forehead. His eyes were squeezed shut in some sort of mix of pain and determination and Jack knew he would have been breathing heavily if not for the oxygen mask on his face. His chest was rising and falling and it was the most miraculous thing he'd ever seen. Jack didn't really believe in miracles but reckoned that this had to be one lying in front of them now. The same sensation that had hit him when Alice had been born, when Stephen had been born, washed over him now like a tidal wave. Ianto Jones was a miracle. Ianto Jones had beaten death. He was obviously had a ways to go; he could tell that by the tubes in the hand that Gwen was holding, and by a quick look at the monitors. It didn't worry him though. Ianto Jones was alive and he had made it this far. He would pull through the rest.

He didn't notice he was sobbing until Gwen was hugging him. Then he felt the sobs, great heaving sobs of relief and joy, shake through him. He was crying so hard that it hurt but he welcomed the pain, they were the final stabs in a wound that had plagued him for too long. A wound he had thought he would have had to deal with forever. He didn't open his mouth for fear of what would, or wouldn't, come out but took the embrace and clung to Gwen the way Tegan clung to her after she'd woken from a nightmare. As Gwen rocked him he looked down at Ianto. Ianto had calmed, his eyes were relaxed and he continued to breathe easily, as though it had never been interrupted.

Next thing he knew he was being laid back on the examination table, which was being pushed next to Ianto. He felt the exhaustion then. The desire to sleep for an age or two was almost overwhelming the sheer exaltation of this moment. "Let's try this again, shall we?" That was Mel's voice. "Pleasant dreams." He heard retreating footsteps and knew they were alone.

They. It was them again. The tears kept coming.

"Thank you," he breathed. It was a thanks to Gwen, it was a thanks to Mel and Harry, it was a thanks to Tosh and Owen, and it was a thanks to Ianto. A thanks to the universe as well for finally giving him something back after taking so much from him. He reached for Ianto and pulled himself close to him. He snaked his arm protectively over Ianto's chest and grasped the hand he found over there and then, soothed by the feel of Ianto's breath and Ianto's pulse, he slept.


	11. Chapter 10

Jack had missed the first time Ianto Jones opened his eyes. He had also been quite upset about that fact until he'd watched the footage.

After he'd lost consciousness nothing had happened straight away. Gwen had knelt down and retrieved the syringe from his hand and kept it with her. She'd tried to lift Jack up off the floor but Harry had told her to leave him, that he needed her help more than Jack did. Then Jack's hand had slipped easily out of the body's grasp and then Ianto Jones had come back to life howling.

Jack had heard Ianto scream a fair few times, this job was less than gentle on one's physical, mental, or emotional condition, but he'd never heard this type of cry before. It was full of pain, shock, horror, and just in the background there was a hint of triumph. It didn't take away from the horror for the sound though.

Adding to the terror was that the howl was impeded by the fact that Ianto was having trouble breathing. Despite this difficulty he still kept trying to continue screaming. Jack tried to block that sound out even though he was sure he'd be hearing the echoes of it in his nightmares for years to come. Harry then chose that moment to stab him with his syringe, causing a renewed effort in screaming. He then took the two syringes out of Gwen's hands and gave them to Mel. "Do something with him," he shouted. "He knows you!"

At that point Ianto caught sight of her and Jack wasn't sure whether he knew her or not. He grabbed her though. Grabbed her arms and held them tight and looked at her with such agony, such sadness, and such fury that Jack was shocked that Gwen hadn't just melted on the spot. She was trying to coax him to lie back down but he was far from lucid or reasonable. Jack knew that feeling.

Upon returning to life there was always a period where he didn't know who he was, where he was, what had happened and everything was simply a maelstrom of noise and activity that made no sense whatsoever. Jack had never told Ianto before but he was thankful for every time Ianto had the luxury of being there with him when he came to. He may have gotten slightly better at coming back but having Ianto there always grounded him.

Gwen finally seemed to realise exactly what was going on, registering the exact reason for the madness in her friend's eyes, and worked to address that. She shifted Ianto's slackening grip so that she was holding his arms instead of him holding hers. He shifted in discomfort but Jack marked that up to Mel's less than gentle injections. "It's me," Gwen told Ianto, waiting until he was looking at her and not screaming. "It's Gwen Cooper." It was a completely calm voice. The same voice she used on traumatized bystanders just before she retconned them. "You're at Torchwood and you're safe." You'd have thought that Ianto had just woken up from an injury and not from death itself by the way she was speaking. There was a beat where Ianto resisted and then seemed to understand the words being said to him and began to relax, a process probably aided by the mild sedative that Harry was injecting into him.

Once Ianto was lying back down and Harry was putting the oxygen mask over his face, Mel had decided to pick Jack up off the ground. Ianto had caught sight of this and tried to raise his head up off the pillow. The confusion on his face could have been either because he had no idea what was going on or because he was legitimately concerned about Jack, there was no real way to tell. "Don't worry about him, love," Gwen continued. "He'll be just fine. You remember? He always comes back." Ianto had shifted some more as if he contested that statement and it was that point that Gwen had decided to try and sing to him. It had worked and the rest Jack knew.

The awakening had been four days ago, the viewing had been three days ago, and once again Torchwood found itself in a flurry of activity. Andy and Rhys were almost exclusively on general detail while Martha and the rest of the team worked to deal with Ianto. Martha Jones had literally walked off the job at UNIT and hadn't told them where she'd gone once she'd been told that Ianto was back. They'd rang Torchwood twice but Jack hadn't said anything. He'd deal with that later. Gwen had snuck away and phoned Martha's husband to explain to him why his wife hadn't been home in a night or two. He considered himself fortunate to have been informed at all.

Ianto was recovering beautifully. He hadn't cracked an eye open or done really anything to indicate that he was alive at all except continue to draw breath. There was nothing wrong with him at all except for the fact that he wasn't waking up. Readings said that he was only sleeping but nothing was waking him up. Mel had switched the amplifier back on and they'd tried to get in contact with Tosh and Owen but to no avail. While sitting by Ianto he often called out for them, hoping that he hadn't received Ianto at the cost of their existences.

On day two he tried asking for Stephen. He wasn't sure whether he'd drawn the right conclusions from what Owen had said but he had to hope. There was only one person who ever thought him as 'Uncle Jack.'

He wished he could ask Ianto. Ianto had been the one to bring him out of the black so Ianto could explain whether or not his brain had finally fucked off for Bermuda or something. Way too much had gone on the past month and a bit. Way too much.

He was still waiting for Ianto to vanish every time he turned his back. Every time he looked back, though, Ianto was still lying on that stolen hospital bed sleeping soundly. He wanted to take him home. He'd been on Harry and Martha to get him back home when it was decreed that there was nothing really wrong with him aside from malnutrition. That was ignored. "Good lord what were you lot eating?" Harry had wanted to know instead.

"Coffee and beans," Gwen had replied through a mouthful of whatever she had been eating at the time.

_Bloody beans._

Jack wondered if Ianto remembered that and if he had any intention of forgiving Rhys for it. That being said he refused to put up with Harry's constant ranting about the state of whatever Ianto had been eating before he'd died. Gwen had even bristled at that. Jack had no wish for Harry to experience anything like the 456 but he rather thought that they could get away with coffee and beans considering the circumstances. They were lucky they'd gotten even that much. The image of Ianto spooning beans out of a can and slurping them down like it was the best meal he'd had in his entire life flashed through his mind and he had to smile slightly at that.

Today, on day four since the awakening, Mel had dragged him by the shirt collar and thrown him into the showers clothes and all. She claimed that his stench was enough to make a rodent sick. After he was out of the shower and in some fresh clothes, she'd thrown him out of the Hub for a walk and told him to come back in an hour. While he resented being away from Ianto, he wanted to be there when he woke up this time and he wanted him home. Maybe that's what they were deciding, he'd thought as he'd wandered. Whether or not to let Ianto go back home with him?

When he returned he was forcefully directed by Gwen and Martha into the kitchenette and left with a stack of paperwork and some left over Chinese. This was getting ridiculous. "I want to see him," he demanded.

Martha led him to the doorway where he could just make out Ianto's feet. "There. You saw him. Now sit down and do that paperwork until someone comes in to talk to you." Gwen gave him a pitying look as she followed Martha out. He knew that look and he was getting really sick of seeing it. Yes, he half suspected Ianto to vanish. Yes, he wanted to be the one to welcome him back first but the thing that drove his desire to be near the younger man was the worry that this wouldn't last. He didn't want to miss a single moment with him if Ianto dropped dead two minutes after waking up properly. He still wasn't sure what he would prefer in that eventuality: that Ianto never wake up or that Ianto wake up just long enough to say good bye.

"Boss?"

Jack looked up from his egg noodles to see Mel. He knew they'd send her. A logical choice; she'd probably volunteered herself too. "You're allowed to take him home under two conditions," she pronounced. "One: that you have to allow Harry and/or Martha in for house calls whenever they want."

Whatever, he thought. That was a small price to pay.

"Two," Mel continued. "You have to call Harry AND Martha the second he wakes up, not after you've shagged him right back into oblivion. Oh, and you're not allowed to do that until you've been granted medical leave to do so."

He grunted in assent and shook Mel's hand but he was firmly of the opinion that once Ianto opened his eyes he was not responsible for his actions. Mel had to have known that as well but she said nothing on the subject as she led him back to the medbay, where Gwen and Rhys where Ianto was upright and supported by Harry and Gwen, who were bickering about who had to go on call tonight.

"Give Lois a ring," Rhys was arguing. "When's the last time she went on patrol."

"She's not trained for field work," Harry explained.

"Train her then! Andy and I are about ready to fall over."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "I'll buy you bottles of wine later, alright?" She shifted under Ianto's weight, slowly transferring it to Rhys. "Harry and Mel can join rotation now and Lachlan said he'd help. Give him a ring tonight and one of you can take the night off."

He felt Mel stiffen at his side and knew that she'd be volunteering to do the exact opposite rotation as Lachlan. To say that the siblings did not get on was putting it lightly. Rhys softened at his wife's words and moved to take over her job of supporting Ianto. "Bloody hell," Rhys breathed with reverence as he regarded his burden. "This is one for the record books isn't it?"

"That it is," Jack agreed, matching Rhys's tone. He gestured for Harry to move aside. Harry very carefully stepped back and Jack supported Ianto's other side.

"I'll drive you there," Harry said. "Got a few things to deal with when we get there."

The retort that Jack didn't want the flat turning into a hospital never made it out. It was a time to play nice. He nodded graciously and together, he and Rhys made their way to the invisible lift.

"Got him?" Jack asked Rhys after they got the call from Harry and activated the lift.

"Yes," Rhys nearly snapped. "I haven't dropped him have I? Stop asking me!"

Jack didn't even remember asking Rhys anything and he was a little livid at having Rhys helping him. If he had his way he'd just carry Ianto off himself, it wasn't like he needed the help.

Ianto's head was sagging onto his chest, Jack was afraid he'd pull something so he shifted until Ianto's head was braced on his shoulder. It was still a wonder, no matter how many times he felt it, to feel Ianto's breath on his skin. Eighth wonder of the world. Right in here in Cardiff.

"Jack?" That was Harry's voice. They were up on the Plass now and Harry was waiting with his car. It seemed he needed help after all. He slid into the backseat and shuffled back to the other side of the car as Rhys and him led Ianto in. Normally Ianto would have woken up and voiced his displeasure at being manhandled in such a fashion but there was no noise of objection. Not even a mutter. It was only that feeling of breath on his neck that told him he was alive at all.

He looked up to find Rhys studying him. "He fought his way to you," Gwen's husband said in a voice made of iron. "We all saw the footage and it wasn't bloody easy for him. You of all people can appreciate that. Do you really think he's just going to bugger off now?" Rhys smirked and shook his head. "Don't think so, mate. He's not leaving you now. Not like this and not like before."

"_I believe in you, Ianto Jones" _That's what he'd said – prayed – when it had all started.

"_I'll be alright. I won't let you down."_ Ianto's reply. It would do well to remember that, some voice in his head that did not sound like Ianto told him.

Jack nodded. He wanted to thank Rhys but he couldn't do it. He hoped the nod was enough. He gathered it was when Rhys smiled a touch of that smile that he reserved for Gwen and returned the nod. He shut the door and then joined Harry up at the front.

Away home they went.

- - -

Rhys was out the door as soon as Ianto was in bed and Jack had assured him that he didn't need anything. Harry had hung around a bit longer, giving Ianto yet another examination. Eventually he'd decreed Ianto in more or less perfect health and did not recommend setting up any IVs. He promised to call him if the world was ending, and even then only to keep him informed and not request assistance.

"Much obliged," Jack said. "Really," he added after a moment as he reflected how much of a pain he'd been over the past while. "Thank you."

Harry ducked his head, muttered a quick 'you're welcome,' and was gone. Jack chuckled to himself. "He's worse than you," he informed the man in the bed. "At least you can make a gracious exit when you flee in embarrassment."

No response. Jack sighed. "You're the one who hates sleeping in," he complained. He leaned over by Ianto's ear. "You've been asleep for four days!" he said loudly and forcefully. Usually, announcing that he'd over slept had Ianto out of bed so fast that Jack ended up standing there dizzy until he heard the swearing and cursing in the bathroom. No reaction here. He sighed. "I'm sorry," he said as he settled onto the bed on Ianto's other side. He lay down next to him. "I'll wait as long as I have to."

Silence.

- - -

The silence in the flat had been devastating when he'd moved back in. It had been nearly a year since Ianto had died and he'd refused to set foot in the place until Gwen had shown him the will again. Everything had been left as it had that final morning before the children had stopped. Discarded coffee cups, bits of toast that Ianto had never finished, clothing lying on the bed, sheets that had been pulled off the night previous along with a frantic note in Ianto's precise handwriting declaring that he needed to remind everyone to stop messing up the archives or he was going to go mental. Jack vaguely wondered who had paid the rent and gotten rid of all the food but tacked that up to Ianto's efficiency and Gwen's compassion. Aside from those omissions everything else was dusty and stale, like it was a historical site instead of a living, breathing, home where two people had lived and loved.

Ianto had never been a particularly loud person to live with but the silence marked his absence with the perfect cadence of a metronome. Something was missing, something wasn't right, and it had taken Jack months to get used to it and to find a home in it. He though he sort of understood why the Doctor and the TARDIS fled at the sight of him. He shouldn't be. Just like this apartment shouldn't be.

However, like the Doctor, Jack had gotten used to the wrongness of the thing. Now, with Ianto back, everything felt off kilter again. He wasn't alone but it wasn't the old days. It was still too quiet for that. If he listened hard enough he could hear Ianto breathing in the bedroom but that was the extent. Jack badly wanted to put on a CD or a movie or bang some pots around. He wanted to do something, anything, to bring a little life back into the place, to bring back that normalcy. He couldn't disturb the silence though. It was a form of sacrilege somehow and Jack was far from a religious man.

What did he do, he tried to remember, when Ianto had wanted to sleep and wanted some silence while he did so? The first ideas that entered his head were going out for a walk or reading. Second option it was then. He was already on the bed with Ianto anyway.

The book on the bedside table was some pulp detective novel that he'd found at a bus terminal while out weevil hunting a while back, sometime between the last conversation with Owen and Tosh and the resurrection. The synopsis promised awful contrived plots to come and Jack could never resist a good train wreck of a book; much to Ianto's chagrin.

"It's not a romance novel at least," Jack said in response to an imagined eye roll and disgusted snort. "If you want to stop me reading this insanity you're just going to have to wake up now aren't you?"


	12. Chapter 11

When Ianto Jones came back to himself the first thought that crossed his mind was that he was fairly sure that opening his eyes didn't take this much effort. Didn't they used to just blink open on command? At this rate he'd need someone to pry them open for him and even then he wasn't sure if they'd stay that way on their own. That being said he hadn't been in possession of eyelids in quite some time so his memory was not exactly the best thing to be going on. He knew that his memory was usually impeccable but one had to allow for weakness in certain situations. Coming back from the dead certainly had to be one of them.

He decided it was best to leave his eyelids alone and concentrated on the other sensations filtering through his awareness. Being dead you really didn't feel anything at all, nothing good, nothing bad, just a comfortable state of nothing. He didn't hurt or anything right now but this whole mess of sensations just from his body doing its job was interesting and off putting after so long. Breathing, he decided, was odd. The last memories he had of breathing were of how bloody hard it had been and how it had been in the way of his need to speak. This reflexive, easy, breathing was welcome but disorienting. Disorienting but magnificent, he decided. In and out, in and out, backed up by a pounding resting heart rate. Had it always pounded so loud? Maybe but he decided it didn't matter. His heart was doing its job and he'd get back into the rhythm of things soon enough.

The best part of this whole state of being alive was that he was _warm._ It was glorious. It almost made up for the fact that he was realising that he was incredibly weak. He couldn't remember ever being this weak. At least that explained the eyelid thing.

Wait a minute. He had just come back from the dead and was going to let heavy eyelids get in his way? What sort of idiocy was that?

It was a fight that was for sure but he managed to get his eyes open and keep them that way. He allowed himself a mental dance of victory and then turned his attention to the next order of business: turning his head. He heard breathing next to him and, though he was fairly sure he knew what that was, he still wanted to check.

Turning his head made opening his eyes seem as easy as breathing but he managed it and smiled at the sight before him. He'd, of course, been right. Jack Harkness was asleep with a book over his face. Judging from the cover it looked like one of those awful pulp novels that always seemed to gravitate to Jack when he was bored. Jack had never been good at waiting, especially for something he really wanted and knew damn well was coming.

He wanted to reach up and bat that book off his face. It was hard to describe what 'seeing' Jack had been like while he was dead but it wasn't the same as seeing him with living eyes. The last memory he had of seeing Jack properly was while he was dying, the desperation and the guilt plain as day. He wanted to get that image out of his head and see what Jack really looked like.

Unfortunately it seemed that moving his arm was much more difficult than his previous labours. He managed to move his fingers with minor difficulty and brushed them against Jack's hand, a hand that must have been holding his at some point. Ianto considered himself fortunate that the hand was nearby.

Jack mumbled from under the book and grabbed Ianto's hand. Ianto gasped at the sensation of warm flesh touching his own warm flesh. God this was amazing! He allowed the warmth to settle around his hand and the overwhelming and comfortable sensation slowly began to guide him back to sleep.

"Jack?" he whispered, he voice so quiet weak that he almost wished he hadn't opened his mouth at all. He didn't want to make Jack worry and he was not impressed that his first living word had to sound like he was dying all over again.

Jack grunted in his sleep and rolled over. The book fell off his face and was crushed underneath his shoulder. The hand that was holding Ianto's let go and flung itself over him, making Ianto wince at the impact. Jack's face was inches from his now. "Jack?" he said again, even quieter this time. No response from Jack.

Ianto leaned his head forward, so their foreheads were touching. The he concentrated on moving his arm. He'd managed to get it over Jack as well before he fell back asleep with a satisfied smile.

He was home.

- - -

When Jack woke up he didn't clue in to what had happened right away. At first he was confused as to why Ianto was there at all but that all came back to him quickly enough. Why he was so close to Ianto was a simple enough deduction: he'd rolled over. He could feel his no doubt flattened book under his shoulder. He fumbled around with his free arm and pulled the book out and threw it on the floor. He was about to get up and stretch a bit when he felt a comfortable weight across him. He turned his head slightly and looked out of the corner of his eye to see Ianto's arm.

That had not been there when he'd fallen asleep.

He looked back over at Ianto and noted that the man was now on his side instead of on his back. Aside from the idea that Jack had pushed Ianto into this position, which was impossible, there was only one explanation for this.

Jack remembered the footage of Ianto waking up before. He didn't want to see that so it was with great care and great anxiety that softly called Ianto's name. The eyes moved slightly underneath their lids and the corners of them twitched. Jack moved back a little bit, startled by the movement. He moved his arm from Ianto's side to Ianto's shoulder and called his name again and squeezed gently.

This time the response was a loan grunt, one of annoyance for being roused, and the fingers on his side grasped his shirt. Or rather tried to.

"Jack?" Ianto slurred, obviously working to open his eyes.

"Yeah." Jack never knew how he managed to get that word out past the lump in his throat, nor any of the ones that followed. "I'm here."

It seemed to take a great deal of effort to accomplish that task but soon enough he was looking levelly into the eyes of Ianto Jones. He blinked a few times, as though he couldn't see properly, and then they shone with recognition and he smiled weakly. "Hello, Jack."

It was normal. It was too bloody normal. It was like every other morning that Jack had woken up before Ianto and wanted some company. He hadn't wanted the screaming. He hadn't wanted memory loss or whatever the hell he was expecting would do to someone who had risen from the dead after so long but he hadn't hoped for Ianto to come back perfectly fine because it was too much to hope for and he'd already been granted enough favours by this being allowed to happen. There had to be a catch.

Ianto continued to smile at him. There's no catch, that smile promised. No catches, no strings, no conditions. Just me. That's all.

He ducked his head so he wasn't looking at Ianto anymore. He could feel the tears coming and somewhere decided that this was happening way too much for his liking. Another part told him that this was good, that it showed how much he cared.

The hand moved from Jack's side to his face. Jack could almost hear him concentrating and knew how hard this was for him by how long it took. "Come on," Ianto said as he cupped Jack's face. "Look at me. I haven't seen you in a long time, haven't I?"

Jack looked at him. Ianto smiled weakly, thumb moving to brush a tear away. "There you are," he breathed in wonder, as though Jack had been the one who'd done the impossible. "I missed you."

That did it. Jack didn't bother being gentle, he just grabbed this miraculous man and kissed him hard and deep. Ianto was still for several, frightening, moments but he soon returned the kiss. It was barely present, probably because it was all he could manage, but it was heart wrenchingly beautiful. He released Ianto's lips and captured him in an embrace, holding him tightly to his chest and resting his cheek on the top of Ianto's head. "I missed _you_," Jack said forcefully. "So. Much."

"I gathered," was the muffled reply and Jack grinned like a lunatic. He held tight to him until his arms felt like they were going to seize and the other man began to shift uncomfortably. He reluctantly loosened his hold and helped Ianto sit up. He looked like he'd just worked four days straight on no sleep while fighting the flu. His eyes were a little hazy with either emotion or exhaustion but he was smiling that small self satisfied smile that Jack remembered so well. It was reserved for occasions just like these, when he'd done the unexpected and had managed to surprise everyone who hadn't thought it possible.

"I did it," Ianto announced. Jack could almost hear the mental stamp of "case closed" in Ianto's head. "Or we did it rather." His face fell for a moment and then looked up at Jack. "Thank you."

Jack shook his head. "No. Thank you." Despite the fact that Ianto was alive and well sitting in front of him he was suddenly could not stop seeing Ianto's death to playing though hits mind's eye. "Ianto, I.."

"I'm going to say this once," Ianto began warningly. His voice was still a little raspy but there was iron mastery behind it. "Then we're never talking about it again, yeah?"

Jack didn't see that he had much choice in the matter so he nodded.

Ianto nodded as well. "What happened at Thames House was not your fault. Not one single moment of it, okay? Even if it was your fault I thinking helping to bring me back has to count for something." Jack opened his mouth to say something but Ianto threw a hand across his mouth the second he inhaled. They both looked at each other in surprise. He was getting stronger by the moment it seemed.

His voice also was setting stronger. "I'm serious," he said, something like danger lurking behind his eyes. "Being as I was the one that died I think I'm the one who gets the final say on the matter." He waited for a moment and pulled his hand back.

"One thing though," Jack fired out as fast as he could, pining Ianto's hands between his own. Ianto glared at him but didn't resist. Jack opened his mouth but now, even now, the feelings were proving hard to translate into actual speech. "I really hope I get to say this more than once," Jack stalled. Ianto's glare disappeared into an even, expectant stare. He still had no idea, Jack thought incredulously. Not a clue.

He had to know. Jack would not lose him another day only to have him die doubting it again. "I love you." It was a statement of fact. Nothing flowery, nothing desperate. It just was. He might of well had said "this is a bed" or "that's the window."

Ianto turned his hands in Jack's grasp until he was holding them. He brought them up to his lips and kissed them gently. "I know," he said. "I always knew, even then when you couldn't say it." He smiled that smile again. "Always lovely to hear it said, though."

Jack didn't know whether to hug Ianto or hit him. "Ianto," he chucked. "You.."

"Conniving little bastard?" He supplied, helpfully. "Yes I know, thank you."

Like most perfect moments in life, this one was ruined by a phone ringing. Ianto nearly jumped out of his skin and the sound and Jack turned around to stare at the thing in pure hatred. The ID flashed "Harry Olden."

"Let it ring," Ianto told him. "Don't want anyone here just yet."

At Jack's questioning stare he continued somewhat uneasily. "It's…weird being alive," he admitted. "Not that I don't like it, not that I'm not glad to be back, but I just want to get settled in my own skin for a day or so first." He looked meaningfully at Jack. "You know what I mean right?"

Jack knew very well what he meant. It always felt weird coming back but he'd never been out of the game for three years straight so he could only imagine how off balance Ianto must feel. "I can't stop them making house calls," he warned, "but I won't answer that phone until you want me to."

"Thank you." He stopped, mouthing the word to himself and then saying it aloud again. "It's odd even talking to you right now," he explained. "I haven't had a proper conversation with a living person in a long time. I'm not used to speaking and being heard, not really anyway."

Jack wanted to remind him that he'd heard him but then remembered that had never been a real conversation. Sometimes Ianto would say something and he'd hear it, sometimes he wouldn't. From what Tosh and Owen said it often worked the other way as well. Instead he continued to hold his head and said "I hear you now."

"You really always did," he corrected. "Another thing I can't thank you enough for."

A faint blush coloured his cheeks and he looked away as he continued talking. The phone rang again. "I know this is incredibly selfish of me," Ianto explained as he eyed the phone, "but I came back for you and me. Not for them. What they want from me can wait."

Jack always knew that something was important to Ianto when he spoke in paragraphs and he had spoke in no less than four in the past ten minutes. It was also considerably less often that Ianto had ever made himself a priority. Death changed people; Jack knew that better than most. He had seen what it had done to him, each death effecting him differently whether it was one of his own or someone else's, and what it had done to others. Very rarely was it a change for the better but he liked this one so far. Not because Ianto had pretty much declared he'd come back for him, Jack was more humbled by that than anything else, but he liked Ianto assertive and was glad that Ianto was looking out for himself for once.

"What?"

Jack must have been starting too long. He shook his head swiftly to clear his head. "Nothing," he replied. "Just you, just…wow."

Ianto ducked his head. "You've come back loads of times for me," he mumbled offhandedly. "I reckoned I owed you at least one return." He bit his lip. "Doubt I can pull off a second but it's the thought that counts right?"

Jack thought that if Ianto kept talking he was going to throw him on the bed and have glorious, life affirming, welcome back sex no matter what he promised the doctors. A side splitting yawn coming from said object of desire put that thought to bed. "How can you still be tired?" he asked Ianto as the other slid down the head board to lie down on the bed. Jack slid himself back down as well.

Ianto glared at him. "I am not even dignifying that with a response." He wrapped himself tightly in the covers and then buried into Jack's side. "I promise I'll wake up in a few hours. See you then." The last three words were barely intelligible through yet another yawn and Ianto was asleep by the last. Just like flipping a light switch.

Jack looked at the human cocoon curled into his side and found himself once again grinning so wide that his face hurt. This was the top, as they would have said decades ago, life could not get better than this. Right here, right now.

His phone started to ring again, this time it was Gwen. Jack reached over and switched it to silent with a great measure of satisfaction.

The world could wait.


	13. Chapter 12

It was three days before that phone was answered. Those three days were also completely undisturbed by anyone except the pizza delivery man and the couple down the hall who had gone out to buy wine for them. They'd been a little confused at seeing Ianto after so long but the names of everyone who had died at Thames House had never been released, not even at the memorial, so they hadn't been too shocked. Jack did even think they'd known that he'd died at all. Just that they'd gone away for a while for whatever reason. "Good to see you back, Mr. Jones!" Clare had sang. "Don't go away so long next time."

"Yeah and keep it down at night," Bruce had added. "I realise that it's been awhile but honestly now!"

Back in the day Ianto would have been quite flustered at that sort of comment. Instead he merely gave a salute and said that he'd try his best. After they'd left Jack had demanded who this man lounging on the couch was and what he had done with Ianto Jones.

No response to that, only that self satisfied smile and a beckoning waggle of his fingers. Jack had thought he had been the one who hadn't want to let Ianto out of his sight but Ianto wasn't a fan of being left by himself either. Jack had made that mistake when he'd got up to stretch the first day and he'd heard a clatter, a bang, and a curse as Ianto had tried to get out of bed and had fallen over, taking a floor lamp with him. He hadn't said anything but Jack guessed that he was still getting used to being seen and being heard again, so he wanted to stay as close to Jack as possible so he could still experience that. Jack was more than okay with that.

Ianto had gotten stronger by the day. When he'd woken up again, aside from the initial wipe out, he was back to peak physical condition aside from some minor balance issues. That had been something they'd taken real advantage of on the evening of the first day, and as often as they could. If Jack had had is way he would have just stayed in bed the whole time but Ianto insisted on moving about and testing his body out, making sure that it still worked.

It worked. Jack had no doubts about that.

Now, on the evening of day four, they were having everyone over at the flat. Considering the amount of missed calls on his mobile, Jack was surprised that no one had come over and beat down the door demanding for updates. Ianto was far from surprised. He reminded him that if Jack was bored enough that he'd even talk to telemarketers. The fact that he wasn't talking to them told them that he was being distracted in other ways.

Jack allowed that but he didn't think that Harry or even Martha would be held back by ignored phone calls. The next question was who was holding them back. Ianto voted for Gwen because he had no other frame of reference. Jack put his money on Mel, Gwen would be just as eager to see Ianto after all. That had been proven on day three when Jack's phone rang and Ianto had picked it up, read the caller ID, and answered with a cheerful "Jack's phone, Ianto here!"

He never tells Jack what Gwen says or what they talk about but when Ianto leaves the room all he can he can hear him saying is "stop crying, Gwen, I'm sorry…I'm apparently really awful at this…"

Ianto really was bad at it; Jack was with Gwen on that one. Ianto often made flippant, joking, remarks about his death and being dead and Jack had severe issues dealing with them. After he'd fallen over that first day, and Jack had helped him up, he had griped that it was much easier to move around while he was dead. That wasn't so bad but the one that had really hurt was when Ianto began complaining of a sore throat and raided the bathroom for throat lozenges. When Jack had asked him how bad it was Ianto had shrugged it off. "Nothing like that virus," he'd explained. "That hurt so bad you're lucky you got a word out of me."

He wasn't sure whether Ianto was making light of a painful experience for the sake of moving forward or he really just wasn't all that bothered by it. When he'd finally snapped on the evening of day two, after Ianto had calmed him down, and had asked him Ianto had shrugged. "Being dead really wasn't bad," he'd explained. "The dying part certainly was, however, and I have to trivialize it in order to deal with it." He then went on to explain that the clearest memories that any dead person had were of their final fifteen minutes. Everything at Thames House had been as clear as glass to him while everything else had been incredibly hard to picture. It was something he'd eventually gotten the hang of, but it had been hard going.

"The past three years," Ianto explained with an unspoken apology for what he was about to confide. "Whenever I thought of breathing, the first thing I thought of was how the virus made that really painful. Whenever I thought of love, I thought of the absolute desperate need I had to tell you that I loved you because it was going to be the first and last time and how awfully angry and sorry I was about that." He took a breath and paused. "Whenever I thought of you," he went on, "I saw how destroyed you looked. I heard you begging me not to leave you." Ianto had buried his face in his hands at this point and let out some odd noise that was something between a sob and a scream.

Jack had held him then, letting him scream out his helplessness and not giving a shit about whether the neighbours heard or not. Ianto had never been able to refuse Jack anything, had never wanted to and had never enjoyed being helpless. He had been and done all three in those moments and had lost everything.

"Whatever I thought," Ianto continued as soon as he was able. "Whatever I tried to remember brought up those last moments first. No matter how hard I tried, everything was just outside of reach." He got himself out of Jack's arms and grabbed Jack's forearms. "I had to make it not bother me," he emphasised, squeezing Jack's arms tightly. "So it was much easier to think of it as nothing. You'd probably get a similar response from Tosh or Owen if they were here to ask."

That was another sore subject. Ianto remained hopeful that they'd contact them soon but somewhere, Jack knew, Ianto feared that he'd cost his friends their existences and no amount of assurances that Tosh and Owen though him worth the risk would get him to talk about it.

When Gwen and the others were admitted into the house Gwen almost killed again Ianto by launching herself into his arms and sending them flying over the back of the couch, Ianto's welcoming offer of coffee dissolving into a yelp as they flew through the air. Rhys had had to pull her off of him only to proceed to almost rip Ianto's arm off with the hand shaking, all with Tegan in his arms. "Bloody miracle you are!" he'd crowed. "Bloody miracle!"

When Ianto was free of those two he allowed Harry and Martha to both shake his hand and hug him and then stick needles in him. Mel and Ianto didn't really have a formal introduction, which confused Jack before he realised that none was needed. Mel simply threw him a salute and Ianto and given her one in return while trying to keep Tegan from drooling all over his waistcoat as she hugged him just as tightly as her mother had.

Ianto had never appreciated being the centre of attention before, and he was still a bit uneasy here, but Jack saw a man who was at home after so long away that that feeling put any malaise away for the time being.

As he watched Ianto interact with everyone, watched him laugh, watched him insult Rhys for his choice in rugby teams, and watched him take pride in Mel and Harry's wide eyes as they sampled his coffee for the first time, he decided he liked Ianto's way of doing things. Aside from his frustrations about the state of being dead he was far from haunted by his experiences. It was an error he had made and he had corrected it as far as he was concerned.

That being said Jack knew he would have to keep on his guard about that. Ianto was a fantastic liar after all.

Eventually, after Tegan had fallen asleep in Rhys's arms, Ianto told them how it had all come about. Or at least he had as best as he could. His memories of specifics were getting hazier by the moment it seemed.

"Potential energy is something that we could feel more so than see," Ianto explained. "Everyone has a bit of it and how much you have depends really on how young you were when you died and I'm going to assume it was Tosh who stumbled across the idea of someone going back on that energy." He pointed at Jack. "Of course one needs a body to come back to and thanks to this one we knew that I'd have one to get back to."

"Can't create a body out of thin air than can you?" Rhys asked.

Ianto shook his head. "Not at all, probably a good thing though."

"Why didn't you just do it at UNIT?" Harry asked. "Not get anyone involved and just come back yourself."

Martha answered that one. "Because we would have been all over him so fast and probably wouldn't have told Jack or anyone about it." She exchanged a knowing look at Ianto. "And I get the feeling that someone wasn't the biggest fan of waking up alone at UNIT surrounded by a bunch of doctors."

"More so the being stowed away for who knew how long," he corrected. "I had no intention of being a lab experiment."

Jack understood that one perfectly. "So you needed help. From us."

Ianto nodded. "You both heard me on that hill that night, right?" Gwen and Jack nodded once Ianto reminded them what he had said to them. "So we knew it would have to be through one of you that we'd need to get ourselves known. Jack, you kept hearing me so we went on that. It took Owen and Tosh three years to be able to make proper contact and once you found that amplifier that made things for them much easier."

"Why couldn't you do it though?" Gwen asked. "They mentioned you were awful at it, but why?"

"I think it's because my body was so full of that energy." Ianto hypothesised. "Tosh and Owen were totally free of their earthly existence so to speak and I wasn't. Owen also has some extra edge because of the dying twice thing, though we were never able to figure out why. At least I don't think so….anyway there was a choice to allow Owen to tie that energy to me or to Tosh and we ended up picking Tosh." Here Ianto looked sheepish. "Owen was worried about you being too distracted by me to do any good and I didn't want to give you a heart attack."

Jack didn't even try and raise even a fake retort to that. Ianto was very probably right. If Ianto had appeared to him that night instead of Owen and Tosh…he could see Mel rolling her eyes and shaking her head and he figured that summed things up enough.

"I have no explanation for the glowing thing though," Ianto continued. "All I know is that Tosh and Owen didn't have enough strength between them to shove me out all the way and have me still come out okay on the other end. Owen called for some reinforcements and Stephen said he'd get some…"

"Stephen?" Jack balked. "My Stephen?"

Ianto raised an eyebrow and then his face paled as he realised what he'd said. "He got help and he got you," he said as if this realisation was only just coming to him. "That makes sense."

He remembered Owen yelling at him outside whatever doorway that was they were outside of, and remembered more so the empty air that Owen had further addressed his displeasure to. "I didn't see him." Jack tried to ignore the concerned expressions and confused ones. Someone would have to fill Harry in eventually, he decided.

"You wouldn't have," Ianto admitted. "You weren't dead long enough and Stephen hasn't been out of the dark long enough to make himself visible to anyone living or dead. You're just a voice and a will at first." He took Jack's hand and squeezed.

"Some of us," he told him in almost private tone of voice, "are louder than others. I'm sorry I can't help you much more than that. It just is what it is."

It was on that note that the evening ended on a mildly awkward note. Ianto saying a few private words to Gwen, Rhys, and Martha at the door as they left.

When they were alone Ianto sighed and folded Jack into an embrace. Folding was certainly the word. Jack simply collapsed into the other man's arm and was almost expecting to disappear into him. "I'm sorry I wasn't there when it happened," Ianto said solemnly, "and I'm sorry I didn't get to him sooner."

"Thank you for finding him," Jack croaked, grasping Ianto like a lifeboat. "Thank you so much for finding him."

"You minded my family," Ianto said easily. "It was the least I could do to mind yours." He guided them both to the couch and settled them both down. "I liked him," he smiled. "I wish I'd met him under better circumstances but I liked him."

Jack choked back a sob. "Me too," he agreed simply.

"I wanted to send him back instead, you know," Ianto told him, which had Jack out his arms and looking at him like he'd just declared that the archives needed no organizational system whatsoever.

"Couldn't work though," he continued. "Stephen's body had nothing left in it for him to go back to." He ran his fingers through his hair and the rested the hand on the back of his neck. A familiar nervous habit. "Then I thought that maybe we could take whatever was in me and put into Stephen and have it work out that way but..."

"But the second it left you it would just be gone, I know" Jack finished. They'd sorted that out long ago. A few moments of silence passed between them before Ianto spoke again.

"Any word from Alice?"

Jack sighed. "None. She disappeared and I really haven't tried to look for her."

Ianto nodded again. "If Stephen had come back," he said carefully. "Do you think she would have let you see him?"

Jack laughed coldly at that. "Oh hell no! Are you kidding me?" He sobered at Ianto's look. Right, he wouldn't know. He'd never met her. "I killed her son."

"You killed her son to save millions of other children."

"I killed her son. That's all that matters to her and that's all that matters to me."

"Granted I wasn't there," Ianto began sceptically, "but I'm thinking that if there had been any other way to go about things you would have taken it, yeah?"

"Of course!"

"Then that's it then. It's awful and I'm very sorry you had to do that, I'm sorry for the whole bloody mess, but it was that or the world. Stephen very likely would have been rounded up anyway. He was on government property after all."

Jack had to give Ianto that point and he acknowledged it with a half hearted nod. "I know," he said again. "It's going to take some time, that's all."

"He doesn't blame you, if that helps."

Jack froze with shock. "Really?" he asked meekly.

"Really," Ianto confirmed. "You're still his hero, Jack. You're all we talked about on the way out of the dark. Jack this and Jack that."

Jack just could not believe that. No matter how gentle a soul Stephen was he refused to believe that he'd just shrug off the fact that his uncle had killed him. "Does he understand what happened?"

Ianto clenched and unclenched his hands and then took an unreasonably long time trying to decide what he wanted to say. "He doesn't remember anything past you lot putting him on that platform," he said. "He understands now what you did but I not sure he's able to understand exactly what it means...and I wasn't really up to the task of explaining it to him."

One day, Jack hoped, he'd get to explain it to him. To ask forgiveness to say something to his grandson, to tell him the truth even. One day, he hoped he'd get that chance before Stephen was either told or figured it out himself.

He thanked Ianto and this time Ianto accepted it. "I don't know how much longer I'll be able to remember him as clearly," Ianto admitted hesitantly. "But if you ever want to talk, about any of it I'm here."

"You make that sound like a limited time offer," Jack teased.

"Not my choice," Ianto reminded him. "You talked about me; you were surrounded by people who knew me so you had lots of opportunity to heal. I can't thank Gwen, Rhys and Martha enough for that. None of us knew Stephen so you didn't talk."

"I talked with Mel," Jack corrected. "After she got back from London with you. After she told me…"

"And if helped some, did it?" Jack shrugged uneasily. A bit, he had to admit it had helped a bit. He didn't say anything but Ianto seemed to have read is mind. "See?" he said triumphantly. "It helped. Now you've got me. Use me, yeah? I haven't been any good to anyone for awhile; you'll be doing me a favour if nothing else."

Jack remembered that video of Ianto burning his resignation letter and told him that he would. "Not tonight though," he qualified. "Not tonight."

"In your own time, sir," he assured him, reaching out to wrap his hand around Jack's neck. He pulled him close and rested their foreheads together. "We have time, world enough and time."

Jack felt some part of his being revolt at that statement but he shushed it. They had time, time enough and this time Jack was not going to hold back or waste any moments. Second chances were very rarely handed out. He'd be a fool to waste this one.

"World enough and time," he agreed. "You and me."

They kissed. Promise made and promise kept all at once.


	14. Chapter 13

_One Week Later_

Ianto decided that if Jack asked him "are you sure?" one more time he was going to kill him, tie him to some bricks, and then throw him in the bay. He didn't know how many more times he could say that he was beyond sure about coming back. Maybe he'd try switching languages next.

"What if I don't let you back in?" Jack had asked him yesterday, when he'd finally told him he wanted to go back to work. Jack had been less than pleased about this and considerably more surprised that Ianto thought he'd be. What did he expect him to do? Stay home and mind the flat?

"You'll let me back in," Ianto had said confidently. "You know what happens when I'm off work for more than a week." No flash of fear in Jack's eyes like there would be before.

Jack folded his arms. "What if I say we don't need you?"

A few years ago Ianto might have taken that threat literally. A few years ago Ianto might have jumped at the opportunity to resign. In this instance, at this time, the idea of leaving Torchwood was as painful to him as leaving Jack. "Then," Ianto had informed him. "I'm going to have to get my job back the same way I earned it." He had been a right pest and he knew it. That had been the point after all. Jack may have found him attractive and alluring but he still had wanted to beat his head into the ground every time he saw him. That had been plain as day.

Jack hadn't smiled though. He had sighed and finally got to the point. "This job killed you."

At least he was blaming the job now. That was an improvement of sorts. "I remember," Ianto had grumbled. "I still want back in." At that point he'd leaned forward over the counter, trying get Jack to look at him. When he finally did, Ianto reminded him of one important part of resigning one's Torchwood commission. "You'd have to retcon me if I don't come back, you know that. Do you have any idea how many things you'd have to either hide from me or explain to me after you did that?"

Not only would the retcon take away a few important memories and facts about Jack but it would take away the entire relationship. Ianto would open his eyes the next morning and have no idea who Jack was. Even if Jack managed to construct some story that would convince him, and Ianto did not doubt that he could, there would be the lie that Jack would have to live every day with him. He'd have to create a story for long hours at work, strange stains on his clothes and maybe one day some reason for his not aging.

Ianto did not want to be lied to and he didn't want Jack to do this song and dance for him. He also wanted to be useful and Torchwood had given him purpose. It was an important part of who he was and he didn't want that taken away.

Jack sighed. "It's your choice, I know, but…"

"You worry," Ianto finished. He flatted his palms against the counter. Why did this conversation feel so much like breaking up with someone? "I can't promise that I won't die on you again, you know I can't." Jack cringed but Ianto continued to hold his gaze without flinching. "I can promise you two other things."

Jack had looked at him with a raised eyebrow but Ianto pressed on confidence. Jack had to believe this from him. "When it happens again," he vowed, "I'll be okay and I'll say a proper goodbye. Okay? I won't leave you without saying goodbye." Some part of Ianto had recognized that was going to be a hard promise to keep but he'd do it. He'd find a way to say goodbye to Jack before leaving him again. One of his biggest regrets of his death was that the last thing he'd said to the man he loved was that he didn't believe that he'd be remembered. Lovely parting words.

Jack had looked at him with the same scepticism but he must have seen something in Ianto's face that convinced him. "Okay," he had agreed. "Nine tomorrow alright?"

"Perfect." That had been that.

That was until Jack had starting asking him if he was sure every five minutes. "I'm beyond sure," he finally snapped. "Now if you ask me that one more time I am going to find a creative way to kill you. The government had some good ideas, I must admit."

That had shut Jack up. It was a low blow and Ianto knew it but he'd apologise later. This was his life and he was going to do whatever the hell he wanted with it, even if he was killed tomorrow. Especially if he was killed tomorrow. No more wasting time and no more holding back. There was no way he was going to work quietly in some other job for the rest of his days. Not after all he'd seen and done. It was Torchwood or death, and the two went hand in hand so it was really a selection of both. He mentally shrugged. It was what it was and he wouldn't change it for the world.

Jack headed for the invisible lift but Ianto went straight for the tourist shop. He wanted to walk through the doors and take a look at everything properly. He also didn't want to make a dramatic entrance. No one knew he was starting work today.

The tourist shop looked much the same, though could do with a bit of tidying up, and he tried to walk in himself before he realised that his pass codes had all been deactivated and waited for Jack to open the doors. So much for the non dramatic entrance.

Seeing that door stamped with "Made in Wales" roll open was nearly as emotional as waking up next to Jack had been. The hub before him was almost an exact replica of what had been here before it had been blown up. The stations were still there, one with Mel busy tapping away and one with Harry looking at something through the singularity scalpel. Gwen was sitting at hers and reviewing what he guessed was the latest rift report and Jack's office was where it always had been, same with the conference room. There was a new, well worn couch, over off to the side from Mel and Harry's stations and instead of the word "Torchwood" on the walls was a familiar spray painted "HUB2."

"Everybody say hi to the new blood!" Jack announced.

All three of the others turned in their chairs. Gwen's face lit up the brightest he had ever seen it since her wedding day. Harry gave a jovial wave and Mel allowed a small smile to cros her face as she walked up and held out her hand, palming a piece of paper and a card in it. "New pass codes," she explained. "Archives keycard as well."

"You lot finally locked those down?" Ianto asked as he pocked the key.

"Yeah," Jack confirmed. "Didn't want anyone getting too tempted in trying anything down there. We've had enough problems with that."

Ianto both remembered and could imagine. "So do I get a station too?" he asked.

"In the works," Mel promised. "You'll have one tomorrow or the next day."

Gwen looked like she was trying to say something profound. She quickly abandoned it, came up to Ianto and hugged him. It was much gentler than she had earlier. "It hasn't been the same without you, love."

Ianto hugged her back tightly. "And I haven't been the same without you lot," he whispered into her ear. He swore he could hear Gwen's eyes widen and he didn't flinch when she pulled him tighter.

"Alright people!" came Jack's brusque order. "Back to your stations! Ianto we have some paperwork to weed through."

Paperwork, unfortunately, was not a sexual euphemism in this instance. He was a dead man who needed to get back on payroll, have all his assets released, and also talk to UNIT. That included the fact that Torchwood had broken in and stolen Ianto's body. The whole team was taking the bullet for that one and Ianto gathered that UNIT would be too shocked to even bother sanctioning them.

Before they tackled that mess, Ianto had some things to take care of. He told Jack to go ahead and he'd be with him shortly. First order of business was the archives.

They were pristine. Nicely ordered and tidied just the way he would have done himself. The blue binder he'd put together lifetimes ago was sitting there looking quite well thumbed and a quick look on the inside showed a very familiar warning from his will.

He snorted at that and Jack's notation underneath proclaiming that he was making the excerpt from the will Torchwood policy. He'd be sure to sure to leave that bit in when he wrote up his next one. When he was satisfied with the condition of the archives he went to the kitchenette and threw out all the instant coffee and started up a pot with what real stuff there was. No biscuits though, he'd remedy that when he had a moment.

He perched a cup by Gwen's elbow, another at Harry's. Mel's he actually managed to get into her hands when she popped up from underneath what he assumed was going to be his workstation. As he walked into Jack's office with his tray and two cups of coffee he almost felt as if the past three years had never happened. That he'd never died, that he'd never left Jack alone, that nothing had ever changed.

Something had though. Jack had snapped and broken and had been held together purely by his own will and Gwen's help. When he actually walked into the office the shine in Jack's eyes was one of such open love that Ianto felt as though they should move somewhere more private.

"Here's you coffee, sir." He held the cup, a new blue and striped one, out for Jack. Jack regarded him and the cup for a moment before taking it with a grateful nod.

As Ianto sat down in the chair across from Jack's desk and began to sip his own, he wondered how much work they actually would get done. He knew that look.

With a resigned sigh, Ianto got up and locked the door. "You know," he grumbled as he shrugged off his suit jacket, "I would appreciate being back on official payroll again sometime this morning."

"All in good time," Jack told him as he slipped off his braces and slowly approached Ianto. "All in good time."

Ah, Ianto thought to himself as Jack dropped to his knees, it's going to be one of _those_ days.

All the better for the first day back at work.


End file.
